The True Indoors
by JokerCarnage5
Summary: Grossology S3E4. How did LabRat become a Grossologist and how did he meet Hermes? The answer lies with a secret organisation known as the Society of Drossology. This is the story of how a timid boy named Paul became LabRat. Introducing new OC BookWorm.
1. Prologue

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is the fourth story in a series of Fanfics, my season 3 series. All fanfics in this series include Grossology S3E# in the description. While reading the first three fanfics before reading this one gives you some context it is not at all necessary.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

All the Grossologists, old and new alike, were gathered in the gaglab. While Abby, Andy and Chester had spent most of the day training, Ty and Naomi had been busy building a small obstacle course for Hermes.

Everything was now ready. Naomi held onto Hermes while the others watched on. All except for LabRat that is, who was working in front of a computer a bit further away.

"You guys ready?" Naomi asked and the others nodded. The young girl then turned to the white rodent in her hands. "Okay Hermes, do your best." She kissed Hermes on the top of his head and placed him down in front of the obstacle course.

Hermes's first obstacle was a simple one. He just had to squeeze thru a narrow tube to get to the other side. He shoved his head thru the opening before pressing the rest of his body into the plastic tube.

Abby frowned worried and fingered her chin. "You sure Hermes can make it thru? That tube looks like it could be too small for him."

"No worries, Abby." Ty replied with a grin. "A rat's ribcage is hinged to the spine, allowing it to fold whenever the rat squeezes into a tight space."

"Yeah but Hermes is fatter than the average rat so it might be a problem." Abby stated.

"Maybe he should diet." Chester said.

LabRat's head peaked at hearing that and he turned towards the others. "I'll have you know that I feed Hermes on a regular basis with perfectly normal, healthy food for a growing rat."

Abby smirked and placed a hand on her hip. "With healthy, do you mean nachos and French fries?"

LabRat blinked awkwardly. "Well I put cheese on them." He then turned back to his computer in embarrassment.

Hermes finished the first hurdle and came out of the tube. In front of him was the second hurdle, a small pool with a small raft and a string hanging over head. He had two options here. He could either get onto the raft and paddle to the other side or climb over the pool using the string. Both options were risky and he knew he couldn't swim or run around the pool since he then wouldn't get rewarded. Since neither of the two options were optimal, Hermes came up with a third.

He jumped onto the raft and bit off the string. He then picked up the string with his mouth and used it to pull the raft across the water. After just three pulls, Hermes reached the other end of the pool and jumped off the raft.

"Good going, Hermes!" The rat could hear Naomi cheer.

Next, Hermes came across three bowls next to three balls, all of various sizes. He knew from practise that he was only allowed to place one ball in each cup so he sprinted into action. He first pushed the biggest ball into the biggest cup. He then carried the next largest ball to the next largest cup with his mouth before doing the same with the smallest one.

He then scurried to his next obstacle, a simple maze that Ty and Naomi had set up. Ty had tried to make it a bit more interesting by blocking Hermes's path with a wall with a hidden door but it didn't work. Hermes ran up to the wall that blocked his already thought-out path, hesitated for less than a second before running thru the hidden door and finishing the rest of the maze.

"Dang it, I really thought I got him there." Ty lamented.

Hermes's final obstacle was a tower with a series of platforms for him to climb. Hermes quickly calculated the quickest route to reach the top and started jumping from one platform to another until he reached the top.

At the top of the tower was a long pin with a metal ring at the top and a string going thru it. Hermes bit down on the string without tearing it and pulled it down. He then held onto to it with his paws before biting down and pulling it down again. As he kept repeating this action, a green flag with a painting of the white rat started to rise up the pin until it reached the peak. At that point, Hermes was done.

"Finished!" Naomi cheerfully exclaimed and the others clapped their hands.

"He did better on an obstacle course than we did." Andy stated.

"You deserve a reward Hermes." Naomi went to get a piece of cheese from a nearby table but when she turned back Hermes was gone. Not only that, the flag was also missing. "Where is he?"

Ty pointed to where the white rodent had gone.

Hermes had climbed up to a counter and was now using the flag to open up pantry located just above him. He shoved the long mast in-between the pantry door and pushed it open. He knew from the smell of it that the pantry was full of treats. The rat jumped into the pantry and a moment later pushed out a bag of potato chips. The rodent then jumped back down onto the counter, gnawed into the plastic bag with its incisors and started eating.

LabRat sighed begrudgingly and got off his chair. "Come on, Hermes. I feed you all the time, do you really need to steal from me?"

"You know, I knew rats were clever but Hermes sometimes seem too clever." Naomi said.

"True, makes one wonder if all the times he helped us was more than just luck." Abby exclaimed.

"Well, of course Hermes is smarter than the average rat. He grew up in a lab." LabRat answered while putting the bag of chips back in the pantry. He then picked up Hermes and placed him on his shoulder. Hermes started to nuzzle his owner's chin which prompted LabRat to smile and pet the rat. "You little scamp."

"So, you have had him since you were a kid?" Naomi asked.

"Nah, I found him right before I joined the bureau." LabRat replied.

Chester looked at Abby with a ponderous look before turning to LabRat. "Abby and Ty told us that you were already here when they became Grossologists. So how did you become a Grossologist? Did The Director seek you out too?" He asked.

LabRat glared at the blond boy for a moment. There was a certain strain in his expression. "No." He finally answered. "I got into Grossology in a much more…orthodox way."

Chester, Naomi and Andy looked at each other before turning to LabRat. "So tell us, how did you become a Grossologist?" Andy exclaimed.

"And how did you find Hermes?" Naomi added.

"I don't know." LabRat said with an insecure tone, scratching his neck. "I mean, it's a very long story."

"Well, the city doesn't seem to be in any danger at the moment." Abby stated.

"True." Ty added. "Besides, your story might teach the newbies a thing or two."

LabRat smirked a bit, walked back to his chair and sat down, leaning back in a confident manner. He sighed like he was preparing for something that would be exhausting. "So you really want to know my backstory?"

"Yeah, absolutely." Andy replied, getting excited and Chester and Naomi nodded enthusiastically.

LabRat leaned forward, a smirk gracing his face. "Fine. I'll tell you all of how I became a Grossologist. You see, it has all to do with a top secret organisation, a white rat that never stops eating," he paused to affectionately scratch Hermes's furry chin, "and a guy who was too afraid to go outdoors."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **And we're back folks. Episode 4 of season 3. Man, I feel like I'm just burning thru these stories and I have so much fun doing it. This story will be a bit different than the others thou since most of it will take place before the series began rather than after it ended. It's my telling of how LabRat joined the Bureau of Grossology. Really, this story could have been written in a million different ways but I hope the direction I'm going for will be interesting to most of you. Also, I am just so hyped to write a story with LabRat as the main protagonist. I know I say this about almost all of them but, he is one of my favourite characters. This story will also introduce a brand new enemy for the Grossologists, one that will be significant later on in the series.**

 **As usual, all feedback is appreciated.**

 **Until next time Grossologists!**


	2. Chapter 1

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **AN: In this chapter, LabRat will be referred to as Paul. This is because at this point he has yet to be given the alias LabRat. I will refer to him as Paul Squirfenherder in this story until he gets his alias.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

Second grade.

"No! I don't wanna go out! I don't want to!" Little Paul Squirfenherder cried as his teacher continued to roughly pull in his arm.

"Stop arguing. You're getting out of the buss weather you want to or not!" His teacher told him with a stern tone and an angry scowl on her lips.

When this class trip first started, Paul had tried to be strong. He really wanted to get over his fear of the outdoors and to prove to the other children that he wasn't a wimp but as the buss neared its destination, the situation had started to dawn on the seven year old. Now he would have to be outside for an entire day. He could barely stay outside in his own backyard for more than a couple of minutes without trembling. That was when he started crying.

Eventually thou, he did as his teacher told him and allowed her to lead him out of the vehicle. When the buss drove away, a single tear ran down Paul's eye as he just stood there in his blue, long-sleeved shirt and trunks. As usual, the other children kept their distance from him.

The place he'd arrived at was a camping site near a big lake and surrounded by forest. There was also a sandbox with a couple of climbing frames. All of this, the large lake and the vast sky, the amount of trees making everything look the same no matter where he turned and all the dirt and bugs that he couldn't see but instinctively knew were there, all of it served to make him feel vulnerable and disorientated. Paul dread another panic attack.

He then saw a way out (or _in_ if you like). A small tool-shed at the other end of the camping site. If it was open, he could probably hide in there for of the day. About an hour later, when his teacher's hawkish eyes had left him, he headed towards the shed. He moved in a slow but brisk pace so he wouldn't attract any attention. However, once he reached the tool-shed he discovered to his dismay that it was locked. "No, come on." Paul's nervousness grew as he feverously pulled in the knob.

"What are you doing Squirfenherder?" At hearing that, Paul swirled around and came face to face with four of his classmates. Three guys and a girl.

"Where you trying to steal something from in there?" One of the guys asked, smirking.

"N-No. I just-I…" Paul stammered in fear, not really knowing what to say.

"Hey, what got you spooked, man?" Another one of the guys asked in a mocking tone.

"He's scared of the outdoors." One of the other boys answered before Paul got the chance to say anything.

The girl tilted his head to the side. "Awe, little Paul's scared to go outside." She cooed mockingly.

One of the guys leaned closer and said, "Seriously what kind of sad coward is too afraid to go outside?"

Paul was trembling but he clenched his fists. "My mom told me there's nothing wrong with agoraphobia. My great aunt has it too."

"I bet she's one of those crazy old ladies that's locked up in a mental hospital." One of the guys stated with a sadistic grin and laughed. "I also bet you're end up in a mental hospital too someday."

Paul couldn't take it anymore. He shoved the other kids out of the way and ran away crying.

* * *

Fifth grade.

It was recess, yet eleven year old Paul Squirfenherder sat in his classroom, doing some extra credit work for math class. The sound of laughter, drew his attention to the nearby window. Outside, he saw some of his classmates playing hoop while some younger kids ran around, playing tag. Paul's face contorted into a disgruntled scowl. He felt both lonely and jealous even thou he knew he'd purposefully ostracized himself. Paul tried to ignore his feelings and went back to concentrating on his assignment.

Then, three of his classmates entered the room. At first they seemed happy but their smiles quickly fainted when their eyes landed on the young shut-in. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Studying." Paul wasn't as scared of confrontations as he used to be, at least not when he was indoors. This was his comfort zone and he wouldn't give it up.

"We need this room for our club." One of his classmates exclaimed.

Paul's face remained stern. "I'm pretty sure no one have booked this room. If you want me to leave, go find a teacher that backs your claim, otherwise I'm not leaving."

One of the other guys growled. "You're always here! You never freakin leave!"

"Then you shouldn't get your hopes up about this room." Paul argued. "Again, get a teacher or go find another room."

This just made the guy even angrier. He stomped over to Paul and placed his hands on his desk. "What kind of kid stays indoor all the time?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Since the invention of online gaming and chatting platforms? Everyone."

The boy in front of him grit his teeth as he got even angrier. The next thing Paul knew was the boy's hand gripping his shirt, pulling him off his chair and started dragging him towards the exit door.

"Hey, get your hand off me you braindead Neanderthal!" Paul shouted at him and tried to pry his hand off his shirt but to no avail. His tormentor was not just much taller than him but also a lot stronger. The taller guy opened the door and threw Paul out onto the schoolyard. "No!" Paul shouted and tried to run back in but the other guy closed the door right in his face. "Not cool. Let me in! Let me in! You idiots, let me in!" He shouted till his throat was sore as he kept on hammering on the door. The agoraphobic teenager started hyperventilating and sweating cold. When he stopped banging on the door, he could sense dozens of eyes watching him. He turned around and saw the other kids at the playground, staring at him like he was insane. "Stop looking at me!" Paul shouted as his eyes teared up.

* * *

Sixth grade.

"I'm going to separate you into teams of four. Then you get to pick one Native American tribe or civilisation to study and at the end of next week I want you all to give an oral presentation on the subject." The history teacher explained for the class in front of her.

Paul Squirfenherder reached up his hand. "Is it okay if we work by ourselves?"

His teacher rolled her eyes in annoyance. "If it's okay with your teammates, it is but you have to work with three other people for this."

Paul groaned loudly at hearing this and leaned back in his chair.

A few minutes later, Paul sat by a table after having been teamed up with two twin sisters and a blonde boy. Several history books were scattered all over the table. "I think it's pretty obvious we should pick the Mayans for our project." The blonde boy proclaimed while fiddling with the page to one of the history books.

"Agreed." One of the girls said and her sister nodded too.

"Hey, wait a minute." Paul exclaimed and leaned over the table. "I want to write about the Olmec Empire. I already got extensive knowledge of it."

The blonde scowled and crossed his arms. "But there's a lot more info about the Mayans."

"Yeah, that the teacher gave us!" Paul exclaimed. "If we put the effort in we can find information from other sources. Heck, I can write most of it for you."

His teammates exchanged unconvinced glances. "I don't think so." One of the girls said lightly.

"Yeah, the teacher might get mad at us if she sees slacking." The other twin said.

"Besides, this is supposed to be a group assignment so stop complaining, nerd." The blonde boy said.

* * *

Two weeks later, the group received its grade. They got a B.

"Alright, a B." One of the twin sisters exclaimed.

The other twin sighed in relief. "It's much better than I usually get."

The blonde boy looked pretty pleased with himself. Paul thou, frowned and looked away. "If we'd done as I said we could have gotten an A." The introvert offhandedly vented.

The blonde boy scowled at him. "Grow up already. You're so smug."

"Yeah Paul, stop being so stuck-up all the time." One of the sisters said.

Paul's eyes narrowed. _'They don't understand me.'_

* * *

Eighth grade.

Paul Squirfenherder, now 14 years old, sat in the principal's office with a big frown on his face. On either side of him sat his parents, Henry and Sandra Squirfenherder. In front of him sat his principal, although Paul thought he looked a lot more like a gym coach than a principal.

His father, Henry Squirfenherder was a tall and slim man with a long, square jaw, wearing a teal coloured sweater upon a white shirt. He had a very thin moustache that melted together with his 9'o clock shadow.

Paul's mother, Sandra Squirfenherder, was a head shorter than her husband. Her face was dotted with freckles and her curly hair went down to her shoulders. She wore a red coloured, sleeveless shirt and a blue skirt. Both parents had the same skin tone and raven hair as their son.

"Thank you for coming Mr and Mrs, um…" The Principal paused as he tried to read their names of a notepad. "Sqirferherder, Sqhurmenhunter, Squrmanhurder…"

"Squirfenherder." Paul's father corrected.

"Ah, yes. Squrfenherder. Is that Polish or something?" The principal asked, looking confused.

"I have no idea where my family got its name from." Henry stated with a monotone voice.

"Sounds Polish to me." The principal said again.

"Sir, can we please focus on the reason we're here." Henry exclaimed, slightly annoyed.

"Yes, of course." The principal said and cleared his throat. "So, it's come to my understanding that Paul here wants to drop out of school."

"Correct." Paul nodded.

"But why Paul? You're one of our best students, a grade A student. Is someone here bullying you?" The principal asked.

Paul tensed up for a moment. It was true that he was still being bullied a lot but Paul knew that if he admitted to it now, it would be the only thing the others would focus on. "No, it's just that I don't think I'm getting anything out of this experience. The other students are morons that I got nothing in common with, the teachers are boring and I never feel like the assignments challenges me."

The principal leaned in, clutching his hands and resting his chin atop his knuckles. "So, you feel like it's too easy for you?"

"Yeah." Paul sighed.

"How about we assign you some extra credit work?"

"It's not just the work, it's everything. I just don't want to waste my time here anymore."

Sandra Squirfenherder leaned closer to her son. "Is it your agoraphobia? Are you scared of coming here?" She asked in a pleading, compassionate tone.

"No!" Paul snapped at her. He quickly regretted his outburst. "Well, maybe a bit but it's not what is important. I've never liked school and there's other stuff I like to do."

"Then what do you plan to do after you drop out? I don't think you would be able to handle college." His principal asked. Paul could sense a hint of smug amusement in his voice.

"No, I don't intend to start college. I have a blog that people donate too and a small business venture where I make custom made devices"

The principal huffed thru his nostrils. "Well, if you want to leave there's nothing I can do about it."

Sandra held her head low. "I guess if Paul feels so uncomfortable in school he shouldn't have to go." She said in a mousy tone. She sounded sad.

Paul's father rose out of his chair. "Is it okay if I have a couple of minutes alone with Paul?"

The principal nodded. "Of course."

Paul reluctantly got out of his chair and followed his father out of the office. He had a feeling this would happen. Even thou he had already discussed this with his parents beforehand, his father was nothing if not stubborn.

Once they were out in the corridor, Henry Squirfenherder crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "I don't like this Paul." He looked down at his son. "I really don't like this."

"Yeah well, it's not about what you like dad. It's what I want and the last thing I want is to waste any more time in a place like this."

"Is it your agoraphobia? Look, all of us have some drawbacks. It's none of our fault but we'll have deal with it. Your mom has anxiety yet she goes to work every week. Vince don't do terrible well in school but he still goes here."

"That's because Vince have friends. I have nobody."

"What about those in your math club?"

Paul was taken aback a little. It was true that Paul did like his comrades in the math club but somehow he still felt like an outsider amongst them, like he didn't quite fit in. "I don't care for them. Besides, everyone else here treats me like dirt. They make fun of me for my name, my phobia and they call me a nerd…mockingly."

"Haven't I told you to just ignore those kinds of people?"

"Oh yeah, great advice dad." Paul sarcastically lamented. "Why don't we just ignore every single problem in our lives? Next time my bicycle breaks I'm just gonna wait till it reassembles itself."

His dad sighed and shook his head. "Don't take that tone with me, Paul." A silence laid between the father and the son. Paul leaned back against the wall while Henry stood upright with his arms crossed and his gaze facing the floor. Neither knowing what to say to convince the other. "Look Paul, if you drop out of school there is so much you're going to miss out on and you're closing the door on so many opportunities."

"I've made up my mind dad and you're not gonna change it." Paul stated. He then remained silent for a moment, looking like he was thinking something over. "Besides, I can go back to school later if I ever want to. People do that, you know." He smiled reassuringly. "Who ever said my school years had to be consecutive?"

His father closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How about a compromise? I'll let you drop out of high school, I even throw in some money to support your business but only after you finish ninth grade."

Paul blinked confused. "Why?"

"Because then you will have finished all your classes for eighth grade so you won't have too much to catch up on if you ever want to go back." Henry replied.

Paul was taken a back. His father really didn't have any faith in him at all. He thought he would fail and have to return here. Paul was angry for a moment but when he thought it over a bit his father's suggestion wasn't all that unreasonable. Besides, his eighth spring term had just begun. There wasn't _too_ many months left until graduation. He hesitated for a while until finally asking, "How much money?"

* * *

A few months later.

Paul turned on his video camera. He was currently in his parent's garage, doing a video for his blog. "Hey guys. LabMan here for another shorty. Today I'll show you how to make a jet engine with nothing more than typical glass jar." He held up an empty glass jar to the camera. He then removed the lid and picked up a bottle of alcohol. "Alright, first you need to fill the jar with alcohol. Methanol works too. Only use a minimal amount so you got one tenth of the jar filled." He poured the alcohol into jar and tightened back the lid. "Then drill a small hole in the jar." He grabbed a drilling machine, proudly turned it on and drilled a small hole in the lid. He then placed the jar on the cement floor. Paul walked over to the camera and angled it so it could keep filming the jar on the floor. "Then we just need to add some fire." Paul picked up a kitchen lighter and pulled the trigger but no fire came out. He tried again but it didn't ignite. He started to get embarrassed. "Um, sorry folks. This lighter have seen better days." He tried a few more times and finally it managed to ignite a flame. "Ha! Success!"

He held the flame over the jar and the inside suddenly lit up with a red flare. It then dove down into a blue flame that kept on burning upon the alcohol and the liquid started too aggressively bubble and made a buzzling sound that kind of sounded like someone passing gas. Paul smiled into the camera. "Like that sound? That's why I sometimes refer to it as _the farting jar_."

Suddenly, the jar exploded from the inside and a red fire started burning the alcohol stained floor. "Oh, no!" Paul shouted in a panic and rushed towards the fire extinguisher at the other end of the garage, all while chattering, "No, no, no!" He aimed the hose at the fire and extinguished it with water and foam. After which, Paul let out a deep sigh of relief. He was just grateful the rest of his family was out chopping at the moment so they didn't see this. He then walked over to the video camera, picking it up and inspecting it. "I guess I have to edit this before posting it."

* * *

"There, posted. Now, let's see how many donations I've gotten." Paul exclaimed after having uploaded his video onto his blog, _LabMan's Experiments_.

Paul's room looked like a strange hybrid between any average teenage boy's bedroom and a workshop. There was a bed and a television, as well as a big bookshelf filled with scientific literature and boxes filled comics stored under the bed. Paul was sitting in front of his office desk with the computer and next to his office desk was a work table with a miniature gun welder, an electronic microscope and other tools and instruments. At the moment there was also a half made apparatus of sphere shaped compilation of metal, yet to be finished by the young genius.

"Fifty-two dollars! No more than fifty-two dollars!" Paul nearly shouted in despair. "You gotta be kidding me. I've had this blog up for almost six months and barely anyone is donating." He leaned back in his chair and groaned loudly.

At that moment, Paul's cell phone rang. He picked it up. "LabMan Industries, this is Paul."

"Hey Paul, this is Benny at the Institute for Technology." A male voice spoke thru the phone.

"Ah Benny, yes. You were the one that ordered the electro-magnetic gyroscope for your rocket." Paul exclaimed happily.

"Yes about that…is it okay to cancel the order?"

Those words hit Paul like a brick to the face. "Cancel?"

"Yeah, it turned out we could build one on our own all this time. One of our interns figured it out."

"Oh, okay." Paul tried really hard at hiding his disappointment. "Good for you."

"Yeah, sorry for not calling earlier but you did say you had plenty of other orders so I figured you probably hadn't gotten very far."

Paul looked over at his unfinished gyroscope project on the work table. He regretted lying about all his other orders, which he had only told to sound impressive. In truth, the Institute for Technology was his only current customer. "Yeah, I got plenty of other works to finish" He lied thru his teeth.

"Oh good. But you know, we wouldn't be able to build this thing if it wasn't for your paper on aerodynamics. We could credit you when we present this in our report."

Paul was quiet for a moment. He knew Benny was being nice but it felt wrong to take credit for something he didn't do himself. "Nah, its fine. I'm just-I'm just happy you got everything figured out."

"Alright. See yah Paul."

"Yeah, see yah." Paul said and hung up. He once again looked at the unfinished gyroscope. He got off his chair and walked over to the entangled collection of metal pieces. Glaring down at it, his face contorted into a furious scowl. He then swiped his arm across the table and pushed the unfinished gyroscope into a garbage can below. Paul sighed before plodding towards his bed with a depressed rhythm to his steps before allowing himself to simple fall onto the pillow.

Paul's door suddenly opened and his brother Vince stepped into the room. "Hey Paul, do you know anything of the burn mark in the garage?" Vince asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Paul slightly shifted his head to glance over his shoulder to see Vince but then turned away again. "It was a jet experiment." He sighed apathetically.

Physically, the only thing the two brothers had in common was their skin colour and the shape of their ears. Vince was three years older than Paul and had a much taller, more athletic built body. His face was more similar to his mother and lacked his brother's long, pointy chin. His hair, while not very long, was still longer and slicker than his brother's and Vince made sure to keep it at neck length and well combed. Vince wore a lime green t-shirt and navy blue jeans.

"You know dad's going to go thru the roof when he sees it." Vince stated.

"I took care of the worst of it and the burn mark can be scrubbed away with bleach and some steel wool." Paul sighed. Before his brother could respond, he also added. "And I'm getting around to it once I got the time."

Vince smirked sarcastically. "Oh yeah, cause you look so busy lying there on the bed. I mean, no one can expect you to both burn down the house and clean it."

Paul didn't say anything. He just groaned in discontent.

That caused Vince to blink and his smirk sunk into a concerned frown. He then saw the unfinished gyroscope in the trash can before turning his gaze back to his younger brother. "Is anything wrong?"

Paul sighed. "No one is making any donations to my blog and my one customer just ordered a recall."

"Oh." Vince rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry to hear…but you still have left some of the graduation money dad gave you, right?"

"It's not about the money." Paul groaned. "I want to prove that I can do something of myself," he paused to sigh, "without school or dad telling me what to do."

"Yeah, you've always been the kind of guy to go against the grain." Vince exclaimed and rubbed the back of his head again. He didn't really know what to say. Sometimes he truly did admire his brother's intelligence and independent way of thinking but at the same time he felt Paul could be so unadaptable. "Listen, you're probably just in a dip at the moment. If you just keep at it I'm sure things will turn around. Either that or you haven't found your true calling yet. I mean, no one can be expected to succeed at their first try."

"I know, that was why mom and dad had me." Paul quipped.

Vince pouted and Paul flashed him that _'gotcha'_ -smirk. Vince then smiled playfully at seeing his brother seemingly feeling a better. "Smartass. Now, you better take care of that burn mark before dad gets home."

"You mean the burn mark I just gave you… because I burned you."

Vince simple smirked playfully while rolling his eyes. "Just hang in there bro. One day, I know you find a place where you belong. One that isn't in this house." He said before leaving.

Paul smiled, feeling a bit better. He turned over to lie on his back. "My _true calling_ , eh." He mused to himself. "Like that would suddenly just pop-up out of nowhere."

At that moment his computer made a *plop* sound.

Paul blinked at it. "Huh, a mail." He said to himself and slowly walked over to his computer. He clicked on the mailbox but the message that showed up was really weird. It had no address and the sender wasn't listen anywhere. Paul started reading it.

' _Paul Squirfenherder._

 _We represent a governmental organisation yet to be made public, concerned only with the betterment of our society. We've been very impressed by your contribution and insight into science and technology. As such, you have been selected along with a handful of other intellectual citizens to participate in a test. If you were to score the highest on this test you'd be offered a job.'_

"A job." Paul exclaimed. He kept on reading.

' _We can't yet reveal the nature of this job but we can tell you it will able you to utilize and cultivate your knowledge under the mentorship of someone very accomplished in his/her field. To take the test, click Accept. If you refuse this offer, click Refuse.'_

Paul felt as if he was sweating melted ice. _'Is this a hoax? Is somebody pulling my leg? There's no way this is for real.'_ He slowly moved the mouse towards the Refuse button but then he hesitated. _'On the off chance this for real, can I truly refuse this kind of offer?'_ Paul read thru the message again and again. He read it at least five times. He clutched his chin in contemplation. _'If this truly is for real, I can't just sit back and let somebody else take it. I mean, I already quit school. I have to take every opportunity available to me.'_ He brought the mouse over to the Accept button. He hesitated, closed his eyes and clicked.

When he opened his eyes again, an animated movie had started playing on the screen. It was a tiny little Astronaut next to rocket ship. Some text appeared next to the animation. _'Paul, you are about to start the colonisation of Planet X. What kind of crops do wish to take with you.'_ After that, there was a description of this fictional planet, its atmosphere, its geological make-up, all sort of things.

"Oh, it's a game." Paul stated to himself. After reading the information given to him he picked potatoes and corn for his little astronaut avatar.

The following questions were a bit different thou but most of them tested his scientific knowledge and engineering skill. Paul had to admit, he felt a whole lot more challenged by these little questions and tasks than anything his school had given him. That said, some of the questions were weirder than others. Some tested logical and deductive thinking skills like Raymond Smullyan's famous three god's riddle but others were more ethical in nature. In one scenario, Paul's astronaut had accidentally caused an explosion but his superior suspected one of his colleagues were responsible. Paul had to decide if he would admit to the mistake or not.

Paul worked way into the night with all of the questions without rest. Every task given to him fascinated him more than the last. His intelligent yet unchallenged mind finally got the exercise it had craved for so long. By the time he gotten to the sixtieth question, there was at least half a dozen empty energy-drink bottles littering the floor around him. Large black bags had started forming underneath his eyes yet he couldn't stop.

When he finished the one hundredth question, a message popped up.

' _Your test is finished. Congratulations to have finished all questions. If your test results are higher than the other participants you will be given an offer to work at us. If not, you will never hear from us again. Thanks for your participation.'_

The sleep deprived teenager blinked surprised. "Huh? I'm done." He sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair. "Now, what will happen?"

* * *

In another part of Ringworm City, inside a dark room.

A slender human being sat cross-legged on a comfortable swirl-chair, holding a thick book between his bony fingers. Most of his face and body was hidden by the darkness but a night lamp helped him see the book he was reading and illuminated his gaunt face. The only sound in the room happened whenever the dedicated reader turned a page.

An entrance door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man with sunglasses stepped in. "Sir, the test results for your screening process just arrived."

The mysterious reader didn't seem to react to the man that just entered thru the door. He simple kept on reading for a moment until he saw fit to end it. He placed a green bookmark on the page he'd been reading, closed the book and placed it on the corner of the table in front of him. "Good. Give them to me." He said in the most emotionless tone you could imagine.

The tall man walked over to him and handed him seven paper folders.

"Thank you. Now leave me alone. I have much to do." The shadowy figure said calmly and the man did as he was instructed.

The gaunt, slender human placed the folders on the table in front of him so he could see all the names written upon them. "I am certain at least one of these applicants will suffice…to be my new apprentice." He spoke to himself as his dull eyes focused in on the name of the upper most folder.

Paul Squirfenherder.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **There, finally done with Chapter 1 of this story. Took me much longer than I expected. Glad I could finish it before my studies starts again.**

 **Special thanks to reader** _ **StarSweep**_ **who gave me some tips and ideas for this chapter, including the name of Henry Squirfenherder and the scene where LabRat has to do a group assignment with his classmates. I liked the idea since I could imagine someone as introverted as LabRat having more problems at school than just bullying.**

 **One thing you may have noticed about LabRat/Paul in this chapter is that he is bit of a bit more of a bratty smart-ass in this. I thought it made sense since at this point in his life he's probable pretty insecure and need some way to hide it. Don't worry thou, I intend to make him more likable as the story goes on.  
Also, now I've introduced you to his family. We never got to meet his parents in the series so I had to create some for him, plus a big brother.**

 **I know this chapter was mostly just set up for things to come. I promise the real meat & potatoes of this story will start with the next chapter. Thank you all for having followed my story so far and as usual, your feedback is highly appreciated.**

 **Till next time Grossologists!**


	3. Chapter 2

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **Chapter 2:**

It's been a month since Paul did the mysterious test and no secret organisation had yet to contact him. Paul simple assumed someone else had gotten the job and moved on with his life. He worked very little on his blog and he hadn't gotten any new customers for his engineering service. Some days Paul was glad for lack of business since it allowed him to relax but when those days started piling up he started feeling restless.

Today however he thankfully had something to do. He and his father Henry was in the garage, trying to repair the family's car. "Can you hand me that monkey wrench?" Paul asked while leaning over the open hood of the car. His father handed him the wrench and Paul used it to secure the final bolt to the radiator before closing the hood. "Alright, give it a whirl."

Henry Squirfenherder got into the car and stepped on the gas pedal. The car revved up like an animal. Paul smiled and gave his father a thumbs up. Henry smiled back and returned the gesture.

At that moment, Paul's cell phone rang. "Oh, that's me." He strolled over to a nearby desk and picked up a handkerchief to clean his hands of the grease and oil. Then, he fished the phone out of his pocket. He was a bit surprised when he saw the screen reading _Unknown Caller_. "Hey, this is Paul of LabMan Industries."

"Greetings Paul. I'm calling about an online test you did a month ago. We were the ones that sent it to you."

Paul suddenly felt a chill running up his spine. His eyes wide with shock. "You were?" He sounded a lot more nervous than he intended.

"Paul, are you in a private area right now? Somewhere where we can talk without anyone listening in." The man on the other end of the phone asked. Paul didn't notice it at first but the caller was definitely using a voice filter.

"Wait a minute." He replied before turning to his father. "Sorry dad, I got to take this." Henry simple smiled and nodded at him. Paul ran out of the garage and thru the kitchen where he bumped into his mom.

"Sorry, Paul. Didn't see you there." Sandra Squirfenherder apologized.

Paul was in too much of a rush to care. He shoved himself past his mother and ran up the stairs and towards his room. He didn't even understand why he was in such a hurry. Why did he feel this pressure in his chest? As soon as he got into his room, he locked the door. "Okay, I'm alone now."

"I called to tell you, you had the highest score on our evaluation test. Congratulation, the job is yours if you want it."

Paul took a deep breath. "Then can you please tell me what's the deal here? Who are you and what is this job you're offering me?"

The person at the other end was silent for a moment but Paul could still hear his breathing. "We are a government funded organisation concerned with the well fair of our country. We don't have an official name but we call ourselves _The Cluster_. As for the job offer, it's a lab-assistant job. You'll be working closely with one of the brightest scientific minds of our age. More than that, I can't tell you. Not until we meet face to face at least."

"Why would you want me?" Paul asked.

"Because we believe you have the right mind for this kind of job. The test is evidence of that." The voice replied. "Listen carefully, do you know where Duster Street is?"

Paul blinked. "I think so. It's a few blocks from the canal."

"Exactly. I want you to be there at 16:00 tomorrow. You will see an abandoned warehouse with a rusty red roof. We will meet there to discuss things further."

"But I have agoraphobia." Paul stated.

"I can assure you we'll be indoors the entire time and if transport is a problem, I can send a cab to pick you up."

Paul felt as thou he was trying to find excuses to back out of the deal. "What do I tell my parents?"

"Anything but the truth. Tell them what sounds the most believable." The voice answered very directly.

Paul felt his nervous energy rising. "How do I know this isn't a sham?" He blurted out, his voice peaking. "How do I know you aren't just a kidnapper or some kind of crazy person?"

For a moment, the voice was silent. When it spoke again, Paul could swear it gotten deeper. "I guess you can't. You only have the information I've given you to go on. If you want to come or not is all up to you Paul but ask yourself this, how many successful men has never taken a risk?" Then, the caller hung up.

Paul Squirfenherder was left standing in the middle of his room with his eyes gazing the floor. What had he gotten himself into and what was going to do now?

* * *

The next day.

Paul sat in a taxi on his way towards Duster Street. When the cab had pulled up in front of his house he had felt almost preordained to get into it but he was still nervous as hell about the entire situation. He tried to calm himself by rationalize that if these people wanted to hurt him they wouldn't have gone so far as to setup that complicated test. Still, his body was shuddering.

The car then stopped. "Hu?" Paul was taken out of his fear induced stupor. "Why have we stopped?"

"This was the address the guys on the phone told me to drop you off at." The cab driver answered.

"Oh, okay then." Paul reluctantly slipped out of the car and carefully closed the door after him. The taxi wasted no time driving away. Paul looked around and spotted the rusty red roof of the warehouse, even thou the rest of the building was obscured by other rooftops. As he started heading towards the warehouse an all too familiar feeling started creeping into him. Agoraphobia. As his fear of the outdoors became more and more pressing his legs picked up the pace until he was practically sprinting down the street. It was absurd. A minute ago he was scared of the strangers that may intend to kidnap him but now he was literally rushing towards their hideout.

Only when he could finally see the rest of the building did he stop running. At the warehouse's entrance stood two men. One was a blond Caucasian man while the other one had a much darker skin colour. They wore the same black & white suits, tie and sunglasses. They looked like stereotypical secret agents. Even more eye-catching was the sign that the blond one was holding. It read, 'PAUL SQUIRFENHERDER.'

Paul took a deep breath and steeled his nerves before approaching the men. "Hey. You're waiting for me?"

"Are you Paul Squffff…"

The blond man didn't get further before chuckling. "Sorry. Are you Paul Squirfenherder?" He asked, sounding like he was about to break out laughing.

"Yes." Paul nodded.

The black man smirked and half-whispered to his partner, _"Told you the boss never misspells anything."_

" _Whatever, man."_ The blond guy replied irritated. Paul got the feeling the blond guy just lost a bet.

The black man gestured to himself. "I am Special Agent B1." He then gestured to the blond one. "This is Special Agent B3. We represent the bureau known as The Cluster."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Agent B1 and B3? Then where's B2?"

Agent B3's lip started quivering and in the next moment he started crying like a child. Paul blinked confused.

Agent B1 scowled. "We do not talk about B2 around here, boy." He then tried to comfort Agent B3 by patting his back. "Get a hold of yourself. Remember what the councillor said."

Paul couldn't help but keep blinking puzzled at the two grown men. _'Are these two really special agents? They seem so… stupid.'_

Agent B3 dried his tears with his sleeve and turned to Paul like nothing happened. "Excuse me. Now when introductions are done with, shall we enter?" He exclaimed before proceeding with opening one of the warehouse's large slide doors. The inside looked like any typical empty warehouse. Dirty and poorly lit. Agent B1 walked in while Agent B3 seem to wait for Paul to enter the warehouse.

Paul gulped nervously as dread returned to him. _'This is it. Once I've crossed that threshold there's no turning back. I'll be completely at their mercy. Come on Paul, get to your senses already. Turn back and go home! Give them an excuse and WALK!'_ But Paul didn't go away. He took a deep breath, fisted his hands and scowled determined as he walked stoically into the warehouse.

Then Agent B3 closed the doors, Paul yelped and jumped like a frightened bunny. "Eek!"

Agent B3 smirked. "Easy there kiddo. We're indoors now. No reason to worry about that little _tic_ of yours."

Paul hadn't even noticed he was holding his breath. He gasped and started hyperventilating. Once he got back to his senses he asked Agent B3, "With tic you mean my agoraphobia, right? How do you know about it?"

"The boss is great at researching those sort of things. Besides, you mentioned it over the phone, dumbass." Agent B3 replied and placed a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Speaking of the boss, you're about to meet him very soon."

Agent B3 lead Paul to a door where Agent B1 was waiting for them. The door had a red sign nailed to it which read, OUT OF ORDER. Agent B1 opened the door, revealing a dirty, smelly, rundown toilet room. Agent B1 got into the room. "Get in here."

Paul took a step back. "No way, man. I'm not getting into that gross bathroom with two grown men."

"Not everything is what it seems, kid." Agent B1 stated.

Agent B3 grabbed onto Paul's shirt and forced him into the bathroom before closing it. "Hey, do not mess with the hoodie, dude." Paul huffed and brushed off his shirt. "Okay, we're inside the bathroom. Now what?"

Agent B1 smirked a little and pressed his thumb down on the toilet's flusher. At first, nothing seem to happen. Suddenly, the room started shacking. Paul yelped and fell onto his hands and knees. Next, he heard the sound of gears turning and then the room started descending. Paul looked as they rapidly past by meter after meter of steel walls. "Wait, this is an elevator? Not a toilet."

"Precisely, so don't think about taking out your business here, if you know what I mean." Agent B3 japed.

"Agent B3 talks from experience. Took months to get the smell out." Agent B1 chimed in with a chuckle.

"Shut up, jerk." Agent B3 growled.

Suddenly, the dark, metallic walls ended and the elevator descended upon a large, well lit laboratory with dozens of people in white HAZMATs wondering around the place while doing work. Not until the elevator reached the floor did Paul rise onto his feet. "What is this place?" He asked, his voice a bit more high pitched than usual due to overwhelming anxiousness.

"This is our laboratory. Here we work with everything from medicine to quantum physics." Agent B1 replied. "Follow us." He then ordered before he and Agent B3 stepped off the elevator and thru the laboratory.

Paul followed them, constantly turning his gaze to look around the place. "Who are these guys?" He asked, referring to the people in HAZMATs.

"They're our scientists. Do not talk to them unless you have too. You will not associate with them and they will not give you their names. You'll be working with someone of a higher rank in our organisation." Agent B1 replied sternly. Paul followed the two men as they left the laboratory and went thru a corridor till they reached a door. The door had a sign that read, 'CONTROL ROOM. AUTORIZED PERSONEL ONLY.' Agent B1 took of his sunglasses and allowed his dark eyes to be scanned by a retinal scanner attached to the doorframe. Once the light of the retinal scanner turned green he grabbed onto the door handle. "You're about to meet your new mentor, Paul." He looked at the young boy and smirked. "You nervous?"

Not wanting to seem weak, Paul shacked his head.

"Good. The boss isn't the kind of person you easily get along with." Agent B1 stated before slowly opening the door.

Peeking inside, Paul saw a moderately sized, dimly lit room with large bookshelves by both the right and left wall. The bookshelves where filled with various books, file folders and binders. The wall at the other end of the room was clustered with monitor screens and computers.

There, sitting cross-legged on a matt was scrawny person with his back turned towards the newcomers. It sounded like he was chewing on something.

"BookWorm, your new assistant has arrived." Agent B1 called out.

Paul blinked. "Book-Worm?"

The person sitting in front of them closed the book he was reading and lazily rose onto his feet before plodding to the nearest bookshelf to place the book where it belonged. When BookWorm turned to face them, Paul felt like jumping out of his skin.

BookWorm's eyes were grey and lifeless, not giving away a hint of emotion. Underneath them were dark bags which made it look like he hadn't slept in days. Those dark bags contrasted sharply with the rest of his pale skin. Another thing Paul found unsettling was how he couldn't discern what gender this person was. BookWorm had long, unbridled, raven hair that went far past her shoulders and long eyelashes. That along with the lack of any facial hair made Paul think the person in front of him was a woman but if she was, she was a very unattractive one. Her chest was flat, her lips were thin and her jawline was too bony and too square to be considered feminine. BookWorm wore a black and white stripped wool sweater along with baggy, grey pants and blue socks that looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks.

BookWorm started coming towards them and Paul noticed how her body was hunched over, like something was wrong with her back yet her eyes remained fixated on him. She didn't speak until she and Paul looked each other directly in the eyes. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Paul Squirfenherder." BookWorm greeted in a flat, monotone voice. Like her body, BookWorm's voice didn't give away her gender either. Neither manly nor feminine but there was something about it that left an impression. BookWorm then held up a half-eaten apple core between her long, bony fingers.

Paul was taken aback by this, not knowing if he was supposed to do something. Agent B1 then opened up his hand and BookWorm gently placed the apple core in the man's palm.

"Throw that away for me, please." BookWorm requested.

"Yes, sir." Agent B1 nodded and went away to find a trashcan.

BookWorm turned his gaze back at Paul for just a moment but then turned away again and started heading towards one of the bookshelves. "Paul, you managed to score extrordinary high on my initiation test. It's very impressive. I purposefully made the test very difficult to pass, even for the most learned of scholars." She said without looking at him.

Paul bashfully scratched the back of his head. "Thanks. I was very impressed with the test itself. It was a long time since I was challenged like that."

BookWorm took a file holder from the bookshelf and started browsing thru the files. "I have also been going thru your blog, _LabMan's Experiments_ in preparation for this meeting."

"Thanks, always happy to meet a fan of-

"I didn't like it." BookWorm cut him off.

"Oh." Paul exclaimed, feeling strangely disappointed.

"Your experiments struck me as juvenile attempts at getting attention. Like a teenage boy playing pranks to impress his friends. However, I am impressed by the scientific studies you've published by yourself over the years." BookWorm stated as he drew out a file with Paul Squirfenherder's name on it from the holder. He placed the file folder back on the shelf before opening the file and started reading. "Paul, you have been able to successfully poke holes in the works of professor far more experienced than you. At the same time you've also published your own theories in the field of biology, molecular physics and theoretical engineering. All of it showing a deep understanding of scientific principles." First then did BookWorm look at Paul again. "I would love to pick your brain."

"Um, thanks. Just leave it in my skull when you're done with it." Paul jested, partly to relieve some tension.

"You're also a high school drop-out. Can you tell me why?" BookWorm asked.

Paul sneered and sighed begrudgingly. "I left school because there was nothing there for me." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't learn anything and the assignments was never challenging enough. Also, I never really made any friends there." His last sentence was laced with a sort of sadness.

"And that's another reason why I want to hire you." BookWorm exclaimed.

"Huh?" Paul raised an eyebrow.

"You're a loner. You have difficulty understanding people and in turn it seems difficult for people to understand you. Coupled with your agoraphobia, you're a person that don't typically connect with others." BookWorm paused for a moment. "I'm the same. All I care about is my work."

Paul's sneer deepened. He hated how someone could list all his character flaws so casually. True, BookWorm probably hadn't meant to insult him but it still aggravated him. More than that, he was getting tired of all this secrecy. "Then tell me, what is your work? For that matter, what does this organisation even do and what do you need me for?"

BookWorm didn't answer him directly. Instead he turned around and casually walked over to one of the computers at the other end of the room. He sat down in one of the chairs and gestured with his index finger for Paul to get closer. Paul hesitantly walked up to him and looked at the computer BookWorm was working on. "To answer your question with as few words as possible, we are an organisation specialising in monitoring and regulating scientific progress in this city." BookWorm explained.

"Just this city?" Paul asked puzzled.

"Yes." BookWorm replied and looked at him. "Tell me Paul, why do you think Ringworm City produces so many accomplished scientists?"

Paul clutched his chin, pondering. "I guess it's because of all the universities and institutions here."

"Exactly. And one reason they operate as good as they do is because of us." BookWorm clicked on a link and several written documents popped up. "Before any scientific paper gets published we get to read them first thanks to our security programs."

"So you're spying on them?" Paul asked.

"It's within legal parameters I assure you." BookWorm replied. "Once we've gone thru their research we determine if it's worth funding or not. More importantly, we investigate whether or not the scientists has nefarious intentions with their research.

Paul again raised an eyebrow. "Nefarious?"

BookWorm clicked on another link and a montage of medicines and transport vehicles started playing. "People love science for the higher quality of life it brings," The montage changed its tone as it started showings images of mushroom clouds and human body parts affected by toxins, "But they're often oblivious to the harm it can cause in the wrong hands."

"Well, except for the folks in the movie industry. In movies science seem to be the root of all evil." Agent B3 joked but Paul and BookWorm simple ignored his attempt at humour.

"What we do is investigate any scientific work to see if the person in question has any malevolent intentions with their research. If they do, we'll take pre-emptive measures."

"So, if scientists do something good you give them money but if they're up to something shady you'll try to stop them?" Paul asked for clarification sake.

"More or less." BookWorm replied flatly.

"So, what about the scientists out there?" Paul asked, gesturing to the laboratory down the hall.

"Yes, some scientists choose to work for us rather than with us. We offer them room and the means to work here." BookWorm answered. "Then there's our third reason for existing. The Grossologists."

Paul blinked puzzled. "Grossologists?"

BookWorm clicked on another file and pictures of people in strange, colourful suits popped up. Some of them where in the air with jetpacks while others ran around on the ground with some really weird looking projectile weapons. " _The Order of Grossology_ is a terrorist organisation based here in Ringworm. We do not know their intentions or motives. They seem to have interest in advanced technology and new discoveries."

Paul was shocked to hear criminals like that existed in his city. "That doesn't sound very good. How dangerous are they?"

Very but so far they've only engaged in minor acts of sabotage. Sadly, it seems they've infiltrated our government which is why our organisation is so secret." BookWorm explained.

"Ah, I see. So no information gets leaked to them." Paul concluded.

"Precisely."

"So, what will my job be?" Paul asked.

"You'll be my assistant, but don't worry, I won't have you do any remedial jobs like getting my coffee or cleaning my workspace. I have people like Agent B1 and B3 for that. Instead, you will be helping me oversee over experiments and help me sort out the data. In return I will educate you on…well, pretty much all I know." BookWorm brought a finger to his chin in contemplation. "Which could take an eternity."

"Would I get paid?" Paul asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How does fifteen thousand a month sound?" BookWorm replied with a straight face.

Paul dropped his jaw, speechless.

"Well, do you want the job or not, mister Squirfenherder?"

"Well, um…" Paul stammered. "Can I tell my parents about this?"

"No, all of this is incredible classified."

"Then I would have to come up with some sort of excuse for them." Paul stated unsure.

"I can call and tell them you're working as an intern at one of the town's institutions. I'm sure I can get one of our associates to cover for you." BookWorm suggested.

"I…guess that could work." Paul said, still sounding hesitant.

"So, do you want to work here or not? You only get one chance at this." BookWorm exclaimed and Paul could feel a hint of intensity behind his words.

Paul scowled and clenched his fists. Even now, after hearing all this from BookWorm he was still so unsure. His stomach felt like a riled up bird in a cage. _'I can't back down now, not after getting this far. I have to do it so I can shove my success in the face of everyone that doubted me!'_ "Yes! I'm in."

BookWorm nodded. "Good. Then all you have to do is pick a codename."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "A codename?"

"Yes, no one here goes by their actual name. It's a safety measure." BookWorm explained. "I guess you could take the name you use for your blog, LabMan."

"Nah, I feel I want to move away from that childish stuff." Paul stated, waving his hands dismissingly.

"Then what will it be?" BookWorm asked.

Paul clutched his chin in contemplation. "Well, I'll be working with you, right? So I should have a name similar to yours, something quirky and animal-themed." He then victoriously snapped his fingers. "I know! LabRat."

"LabRat." BookWorm enunciated the name, almost like he was tasting it. "I like it. It's catchy." He then reached out a hand for Paul. "I'm looking forward to working with you LabRat."

The newly christened LabRat, hesitantly took a hold of the hand offered to him and BookWorm gently shook it.

"I think this is the start of a most beneficial collaboration."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **I'm finally back guys. Sorry for not posting anything lately. I've been busy with schoolwork but now I'm back to work on this story.  
Originally, this chapter was supposed to be even longer and even include LabRat's first meeting with Hermes but I feel it's best to wait with that till next chapter. After all, such an important event seem to deserve its own chapter.  
So, in this chapter we finally meet the organisation that LabRat was first enrolled with. I won't speak too much about them right now since that would be spoiler but it's pretty obvious they're being very deceptive towards LabRat. And of course in this chapter I properly introduced my new OC BookWorm. I based him mostly on the characters L and Near from Death Note. I like to imagine him as the extreme version of LabRat. He is LabRat, just even more intelligent and disconnected from people. I hope the fact that he doesn't have a determined gender won't be too confusing, since some sometime refer to him as a **_**he**_ **and other times as a** _ **she**_ **. It's not that he's a transvestite or a transsexual or anything like that. He just has that kind of appearance that makes it hard to tell. Truth be told, I haven't even decided myself yet what gender he's supposed to be.  
I know LabRat is a bit ooc in this story. I don't think LabRat in the show would do such reckless things as he does in this story. Too my defence, this is a younger LabRat. He is more selfish and naive at this point in his life. **

**So tell me, do you like where the story is going so far? What do you think about BookWorm? Is LabRat too out of character for you? Any feedback is good feedback.**

 _ **Until next time, Grossologists!**_


	4. Chapter 3

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **Chapter 3:**

It had been a about two weeks since LabRat started working at The Cluster and besides the long days, which lasted from early in the morning to well into the afternoon, LabRat was thriving. Reading all these scientific dissertations before anyone else felt like a real privilege. A lot of what he read was interesting, some of it just came of as rubbish but he never found anything that seemed nefarious or directly dangerous. Some days, LabRat even got to supervise the experiments going on at The Cluster. The scientists rarely spoke to him. He simple told them what to do and they usually did as they were told. He had to admit, he enjoyed the power. For safety reasons, BookWorm had ordered Agent B1 and B3 to meet up with LabRat every morning in the warehouse to escort him to their underground lair. It was pretty obvious from their sneers and the spiteful way they spoked to him that they were jealous of LabRat since he got to work so closely with BookWorm. In school, LabRat had always envied the more confident and handsome guys for getting all the attention so it felt good that someone finally envied him for a change.

Still, BookWorm remained the most mysterious yet most present aspect of his job. He still couldn't tell whether BookWorm was a man or a woman. He had called her 'mam' on occasion and since BookWorm had no reaction to it he assumed she was indeed a woman but later he heard some of the scientists call her, 'sir' so maybe he was actually a guy. No matter her gender, LabRat's respect for BookWorm grew rapidly during the two weeks he worked for her. BookWorm taught him a lot about computer science and how espionage worked. BookWorm operated like a machine. Always punctual, always diligent. The only leisure he ever saw BookWorm participate in was reading books, although the very second his break was over, he would close whatever book he was reading and resume work.

Today, BookWorm led LabRat into a separate room of their underground lair. The room looked like a workshop with one large table in the middle and there were two scientists in HAZMATs waiting for them. On the table was a rather big, block-shaped object covered by a big white sheet.

"Today I want to show you one of our more long standing projects. I think you'll be able to appreciate it, considering your moniker." BookWorm stated in her monotone voice.

LabRat simple huffed as a response.

BookWorm walked up to the table and gripped the sheet with his long bony fingers. "This will be the future of espionage." He stated before ripping the sheet off, revealing a big hamster cage underneath. In the cage was a white rat with big crimson eyes and a pink nose. It was kind of cute in a sort of absentminded way.

LabRat couldn't help but smile at it.

"This is test subject RM-45. We have altered him with brain surgery to heighten his intelligence. So far, he's the only specimen that has survived the procedure."

"Awesome." LabRat exclaimed and got closer to the cage. He leaned closer to get a better look at the rodent. The white rat got closer to the bars as well. "Can we let it out?" He asked and one of HAZMAT-scientists opened the little cage door. The white rat seemed a bit hesitant of coming out thou. LabRat slowly held out his hand and the rat soon jumped into his welcoming palm. LabRat smiled warmly. "Hey, I think he likes me." He exclaimed as the rat started licking the boy's thumb.

"Probably because he smelled the nachos you had for lunch." BookWorm stated and took a gentle hold of the rat, lifting him out of LabRat's hand. "RM-45 is no pet, LabRat. We've trained him. He can dismantle complex machinery in case we would ever need him for sabotage. He has also been trained to operate as a spy."

LabRat blinked puzzled. "How can a rat be useful for spying?"

BookWorm handed the rodent over to one of the men in HAZMATs who in turn nodded to his colleague. This man then grabbed a paper file of the table and walked out of the room. Once he'd left, LabRat turned to the ones left, wondering what was going to happen. The remaining HAZMAT scientist strapped a tiny camera to the white rat's neck. He then kneeled down and placed the rat on the floor.

The white rat immediately ran off and climbed up a workbench before scurrying up a stack of toolboxes and jumped right into an open ventilation shaft.

"Was that really such a smart thing to do?" LabRat asked, half-believing the rat was gone for good.

The MAZMAT scientist brought up a laptop and opened it up on the table. LabRat and BookWorm gathered by the laptop and what they saw on the screen was a live video feed from the camera that was strapped to the white rat as it made its way thru the ventilation shaft.

"With this we can see everything the rat sees." BookWorm exclaimed.

"Yeah plus a hairy scalp and a pair of ears." LabRat scoffed.

* * *

The white rat ran rapidly thru the ventilation shaft. Even thou he couldn't see him, he followed the familiar scent of the man with the file. When he got to an opening, he stopped to peek in-between the bars so he could see the man walking down a corridor. Then he resumed running.

He ran until the ventilation shaft came to a steep. He could still smell the scent of the guy emanating from the chink of the bottom lid of the shaft. He carefully climbed down and pushed the lid off the ventilation drum.

Even thou the man the rat was following heard the clang of the lid hitting the floor he ignored it.

The rat jumped out of the ventilation, entering an office room and quickly took cover behind a computer. For about ten minutes, the scientist do nothing but inconsequential things such as reading the newspaper and looking at emails on his computer while all the rat did was stay still, observing the man from his hiding spot.

* * *

"Um, why isn't he doing anything?" LabRat asked as he and his mentor watched the live feed.

"It's to test RM-45's patience and dedication to the mission." BookWorm replied.

* * *

Eventually, the man in the HAZMAT suit went to a file cabinet and placed the file in one of the drawers. The man then turned around and started fiddling with a coffeemaker, leaving the file cabinet open. The white rat's head peaked at this.

* * *

"Tell RM-45 to fetch the file." BookWorm ordered the scientist in the room.

"Wait, you're telling me you've taught the rat complicated demands like that too?" LabRat asked bewildered.

"We've taught him certain keywords means certain actions. Or at least, we've tried." BookWorm replied.

* * *

The moment the white rat heard the word "fetch" he ran towards the file cabinet while the scientist still had his back turned. The worktable he ran over offered a perfect pathway to the cabinet. He jumped from the table, onto the top of the cabinet and reached down over the open drawer. He sniffed the paper files for a second before biting into one of them and lifting it out of the cabinet. He then started running unhinged towards the open ventilation.

* * *

"Impressive." LabRat exclaimed, shoving his hands into his shirt pockets.

"No, he got the wrong file." BookWorm stated before turning to the man in the HAZMAT. "Correct him." He ordered with chillingly hint in his voice.

The scientist reached for the laptop and tapped one of the buttons.

* * *

Suddenly, a jolt of pain charged thru the rat's body and he started convulsing in agony, dropping the file in the process. He squeaked and rolled around over table until he fell over the edge. Even then, he kept on struggling on the floor. He knew where this sharp pain was coming from. The camera. He knew he needed to get rid of it. He pressed both hind and front legs against the collar which the camera was attached to. This elevated the pain but he instinctively knew he had to press on. Finally he managed to push the collar off his body but at that point had the electrification taken its tool. She poor animal just lied there, in pain and panting for air.

The way the camera had hit the floor, allowed the lens to view the tormented rodent sprawled out on the floor.

* * *

LabRat looked at the poor animal on screen with a look of absolute horror. The white rat stared right into the camera with its large red eyes. He looked sad. In the background, the yellow boots of the HAZMAT suit came into view. The scientist crouched down, gripped the rat by its shoulders before also picking up the camera. The screen then froze, probably because the camera had been turned off.

BookWorm tipped her chin. "How unfortunate. As far as we've come, there's still things a rat can't do as well as a human." She then turned to his assistant. "So LabRat, what do you think of this."

LabRat looked at his boss before turning his gaze at the man in the HAZMAT suit. Even thou he couldn't see the scientist's face he could tell he was anxious to hear his judgment. "Well, it's very impressive how you've been able to sharpen the brain of a common rat, I can't dispute that." He started softly while scratching his neck. "It's also very impressive how much you've been able to teach it."

"But you have objections to it." BookWorm concluded, almost like he could predict what the boy was going to say.

"I just wonder if it wouldn't be more productive to build robots to do the same thing." LabRat stated. The scientist in the HAZMAT suit fidgeted at hearing that.

"Machines of that complexity takes long time to build and a lot of resources." BookWorm pointed out.

"Considering that MR-45 is the only one to have survived all your experiments and all the time you've put into training him, it seems like you're already wasting time." LabRat argued.

"So you think we should terminate the project?" BookWorm asked.

LabRat was taken aback by the question. _'If the project gets terminated they won't have any more use of the rat and they'll probably get rid of it.'_ LabRat thought worried. He didn't really understand why he suddenly cared so much about the rat so much but he'd always had a soft spot for animals. "No, not necessarily. It would be a shame to throw away everything you've worked on. I say, you should keep the project going, see if you can teach it more commands and see if you can learn anything from its brain's physiology. But you should also set up a second team to work on producing robots that can do this sort of stuff."

"I see." BookWorm took a step forth and turned his gaze to the scientist in the HAZMAT suit. "I give you another five months to get results with RM-45. If I don't see any results, remove the animal's brain for study."

The scientist simple gave a humble nod as a response.

BookWorm casually passed LabRat and opened the exit door. "Come LabRat, we need to get back to monitor duty." LabRat gulped nervously before following his mentor out of the room. It was in moments like this that LabRat was reminded what kind of person BookWorm was. Cold, calculated and dispassionate.

* * *

As the weeks at The Cluster went by, LabRat's initial passion for the job burned up. He had the same power and status over the other employees as before but now he'd grown fed-up with it. He never got to know any of the scientists since they almost never communicated with him, except for Agent B1 and B3 and those jerks he could live without. His power felt empty somehow. He grew depressed and lonely, even lonelier than he was at school.

He still had a lot of respect for BookWorm and appreciated everything he thought him but he soon came to wish more of him. He wanted a conversation partner. Someone he could talk too and share in his interest.

It was 12:00, the typical break hour at The Cluster. "Break time, BookWorm." LabRat announced as he came into the monitor room, holding a greasy, brown paper bag. "I bought burgers and French fries. I wonder if we could eat together for once."

BookWorm was sitting on the round matt in the middle of the room as usual with an open book in his lap and a partly eaten apple-pie to the side of him. "No thanks. Break time is the time I use to read my literature." He answered with his typical monotone voice.

"Alright." LabRat couldn't help but feel a bit rejected. "So, what you reading there?"

BookWorm swallowed the morsel of pie he was shewing on. "Dune."

LabRat smiled a bit. "Really? I love that old sci-fi story. How far have you gotten on it?"

Up until now, BookWorm had tried to keep reading while answering his apprentice's questions but now, he looked up from his book. "LabRat, while I appreciate your taste in literature, please join a book club if you want someone to discuss it with. I'm not interested. Now, go find some other place to eat your high-calorie food. You're wasting both our time. We reassume work at 13:00 as usual." He said dismissively and waved him off.

LabRat sighed and left the room. _"Sometimes I wonder if that girl or guy or whatever is even human. He acts like a robot half the time."_ He muttered to himself as he trailed down the corridor.

Suddenly, he heard a squeak coming from the door he just past. He turned back to look at it. Out of curiosity, he opened the door. The room inside was a dark little laboratory. When he flipped the light switch he saw what it was that caused the noise. On a table in the middle of the room was the hamster cage with the white rat from earlier. "Oh, it's you. What are you so worked up about?"

The white rat ran around in a circle before getting to his water bottle and tried to suckle on the spout. LabRat squinted to see a bit better and that was when he noticed that there was no water in the bottle.

"Oh, you need water." He said and removed the water bottle from the cage. The white rat looked at him with a nearly surprised expression. LabRat went to the nearest bathroom and filled the bottle with water and quickly returned to the room with the rat. As soon as he reattached the bottle to the cage, the white rat started suckling the cool water, like it was his first sip of liquid in days.

LabRat saw a chair by the table and thought to himself, _'I guess having lunch with a rodent is about as awkward as having dinner in an empty cafeteria.'_ He sat down and opened his lunch bag, placing the hamburger, the French fries and soda in front of him. He figured, in case it got messy he had plenty of time to clean up before his break was over. He unwrapped the hamburger and started eating. He then saw the white rat staring out of its cage. LabRat followed the animal's gaze and saw he was staring at the fries. "Oh, you want French Fries?" The boy took one of the French fries and placed it inbetween the bars of the cage. The rat immediately grabbed the strip with its pinkish paws and started gnawing. LabRat couldn't help but smile at the little creature.

He looked down at the big, juicy hamburger in his hands. For some reason it got him thinking on his mother. "You know…" He started and surprisingly the white rat listened to him, peaking his head and ears at the human voice. "My mom really don't want me eating this kind of stuff. You see, she's a cook at a fancy restaurant and she really wants me to eat healthier. I try to tell her it's not a big deal but she has anxiety issues and I don't want to push too hard on the subject." LabRat paused to sigh. He then noticed the rat had already eaten its French fries so he stuck another into the cage which of course the rodent started gnawing on immediately. "I bet you have lots of brothers and sisters, eh." LabRat continued. "I have a brother too. He is ' _that guy'_ you know. He's good at sports, has a lot of friends and girls throw themselves at him. His friends has this nickname for him, _Squirf_. It's from our last name, Squirfenherder. I hate when people make fun of the name but he almost takes it as a compliment. I can't understand it."

LabRat saw the white rat twitch its nose a little.

"I am not jealous of Vince!" LabRat proclaimed irritated. "He's a D average student while I only get As. I'm way smarter than him." He took a deep sigh and calmed down. "Why am I even talking to a rat? I must be going insane."

The white rat scratched its ear.

LabRat smiled a bit but the smile was short-lived. "You know, I didn't like it when the scientists zapped you earlier. Sorry about that. Still, the things you can do is quite incredible. I wonder if you can do any other tricks."

As a response to this, the rat scurried over to a used toilet roll in the cage and shoved its upper body thru it until its head stuck out the other side and then he rose onto his hind legs. This made him look like a weird cartoon character with a long neck and no arms.

LabRat chuckled a bit. "You're a pretty cool cat-I mean, rad rat." He said as he stuck another French fry into the cage. The white rat slipped out of the roll and went to snack on his new favourite food. "Just wish you had a better name than RM-45." He took another bite of his hamburger. "Maybe I can give you another name." He tilted his head backwards. "Let's see, you're white, you're fast, you're clever, you're good at relaying info to people and you like French fries." He looked at the nametag on the cage. It read RM-45 but the letters were smudged so 45 looked like a lowercase E and an S. "R-M-E-S." LabRat repeated to himself. "Armes?" He shewed the food in his mouth a little. Then he realized something and triumphantly snapped his fingers. "I know. Hermes!"

The white rat's head peaked.

"Yeah, Hermes like the messenger god of greek myth. I'm not sure whether the myths ever mentioned him eating French fries but otherwise it fits. What do you think?"

The white rat enthusiastically ran around in circles, seemingly ecstatic over his new name.

LabRat smiled warmly. He opened the cage and reached out his hand. Hermes wasted no time jumping into the boy's open palm. LabRat then brought the animal up to his face. "Hey there Hermes, my name is LabRat."

* * *

From that day, LabRat spent every free moment he had with Hermes. Every break he would go into the little lab and eat his lunch next to the little rodent. As time went on it became more and more common for him to take Hermes out of his little cage and allow him to sit on his shoulder. On occasion, LabRat would bring things like toys and snacks and remote control cars into the room for the two of them to play with. LabRat felt he could talk to Hermes about anything and even thou Hermes couldn't talk, LabRat felt as thou the animal understood him. He never brought Hermes with him out of the room thou. He knew BookWorm would disapprove.

It was an early Monday morning. LabRat had just arrived at The Cluster and was strolling down the corridor towards BookWorm's control room. He yawned and stretched his arms. "Man, Monday mornings are the worst. They should be stricken from the calendar."

"Everybody get out of the way! We need room!" One of the HAZMAT scientists shouted as he came thru the corridor. LabRat immediately got more alert, straining his eyes at the men coming towards him. The man who was shouting came first, followed by two other scientist in HAZMATs, dragging a wheeled table between them. LabRat stepped aside to let the three scientists thru but as they passed him, LabRat got shocked.

There, lying on the table they were dragging were Hermes, lying unconscious as blood pooled around his head. LabRat felt like vomiting, like his very soul was about to leave him.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!" LabRat called out as he followed after the scientists.

"We couldn't get the results we needed fast enough so we performed another surgery on RM-45." One of them answered while he continued running. "The operation was a success until we had to patch it up. Then something went wrong."

"Will he be okay?" LabRat asked alarmed.

"We have some things that should recover him but we need to act fast."

The three scientists headed into yet another disclosed operation hall. LabRat tried to enter as well but one of the scientists stopped him and pointed to a sign on the door.

 _DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT PROTECTION._

LabRat may have been worried but he understood. The last thing he wanted was to be in the way of his little friend's recovery. He swallowed the lump that's been building up in his throat and looked sternly at the man in the HAZMAT. "I order you to do all you can to save that rat."

The man in the HAZMAT suit nodded and closed the door after him. LabRat lingered at the door for some time, wanting to do something but not knowing what. Eventually he headed back to the control room. _'Please be okay, Hermes. Without you, I don't even know what I'm doing here.'_

* * *

Later at lunchbreak.

LabRat cautiously headed towards the little lab where he usually had lunch with Hermes. There was sickly flutter in his stomach. He hadn't even realized how much he valued the little rodent until he'd seen his head lying in that puddle of blood. His fingers curled around the door handle, pressed it down and slowly opened the door.

When he turned on the light, all his anxiety evaporated.

There on the table, in his little hamster cage was Hermes. Apart from a few red marks atop of his head, he looked as healthy and lively as ever.

LabRat couldn't stop himself from smiling.

* * *

LabRat approached BookWorm from behind as the later was sitting in a swirling chair in front of a computer. "BookWorm, we need to talk." LabRat proclaimed, putting in as much authority into his words as he could muster.

"What is it, LabRat?" BookWorm asked.

"I want to take over the project with the rat." LabRat stated. BookWorm didn't seem to have anything to say and just kept looking at the screen. "Hey, are you listening to me?" LabRat asked irritated.

"I am." BookWorm answered. As usual he spoke with a near emotionless tone, however during the months it taken LabRat to get to known BookWorm, he'd learned to pick up on the subtle nuances in his voice. Right now, he sounded slightly annoyed. "I'm pretty sure I've told you already that you will eventually be allowed to manage your own projects. This will happen when I judge your internship have come to an end. I never said you could simple take over something that's been in production long before you joined up with us."

LabRat grit his teeth. "But I think I'm more qualified to head the project that the men you've put in charge of it. Those scientists are wasteful and careless. Today, they nearly killed Hermes."

BookWorm's eyes moved slightly in the boy's direction, although he wasn't quite looking at him. "Hermes? Who is Hermes?"

LabRat was taken aback. He hadn't even realized he had used the name. "Um, I mean the rat RM-45, sir. Hermes is just a silly nickname I came up for it."

"I see. It has come to my understanding that you take your lunch in the same room where the test subject is being held. Don't tell me you've grown, what's the word? _Attached_ to it."

Again, LabRat was taken aback. "What? O-of course not. I just think I would be the better candidate to head the project. I can get results without risking the creature's life."

BookWorm huffed quietly and adjusted the position of his chair before standing up, she still didn't look at him thou. "LabRat, do you remember the test you did about a month before joining our organisation? We never discussed your results."

LabRat blinked puzzled. "Well, you said you were impressed so I just assumed I aced it." He shrugged.

"It's true. You were flawless when it came to the scientific questions and problem solving challenges but there was still one part of the test where you failed." First now did BookWorm turn to look LabRat straight in the eyes. "The moral dilemmas."

LabRat blinked, puzzled.

"In each ethical challenge of the test you always took the moral high road. Whenever you had the opportunity to advance on somebody's expense you refused. Whenever you could have benefited from a dishonest act you choose a noble defeat." BookWorm explained.

LabRat was taken aback. "Well, yeah. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

BookWorm's eyes kept LabRat under a cold, observant gaze. "Those ideals may have usage for people in society but not for scientists like us who operate on its fringes. We can't let things like our moral compass and emotions get in the way of our progress. Do you understand?"

LabRat had always found BookWorm somewhat unsettling but this was the first time he genuinely felt intimidated by her. "So, you think my emotions are clouding my judgment."

"Precisely."

LabRat lowered his head in submission. "Is there no chance for me to take over the project?"

BookWorm sat back down in the chair, her attention returned to the screen. "Show me some initiative, something to prove your dedication to our organisation," She exclaimed as she kept pressing on the scroll button, "and I might consider it."

LabRat stared at his mentor with dread washing over his face.

* * *

Midnight, at Grey Matter University.

A window slowly opened and two men in black jumpsuits sneaked into the lab. Apart from the black jumpsuits that covered their entire bodies, they also wore black gloves and ski masks. Their eyes were covered by infrared visors that allowed them to see in the dark. "This is it. The biology lab where they store the petri dishes." One of them stated. "You got the alcohol?"

The other man brought up a spray bottle with a transparent liquid inside. "Yeah. One drop of this and that cure for blight will be ruined."

The two made their way over to one of the cabinets. The first one whipped up a tiny metal wire and used it to pick the lock. However, once he opened the cabinet the two were dazed to see it empty. "What! Our sources told us the petri dish would be here! Where is it?"

"You looking for this?" An unknown, manly voice spoke. Startled, the two trespassers jumped around and someone turned on the lights. There, leaning against the doorframe and fiddling the petri dish between his fingers was a tall, handsome man with a dark ponytail and a smug smirk on his lips, wearing an emerald slimesuit. The same coloured slimesuit as The Director of Grossology.

"It's the Grossologist, Lance!" One of the men proclaimed.

"Good, you know who I am. This wouldn't be nearly as fun if you did know who was kicking your asses. You pretty much have to fight me if you want _this_." Lance Boil quipped and stuffed the petri dish inside his belt.

"You'll be kicking our asses?" One of the saboteurs huffed. He took a step forward and fisted his palm. "It's two against one, genius."

"You're right." Lance pretended to gasp. "I better tie one hand behind my back to make it fair." He smirked and placed one hand behind his back.

"That's enough out of you!" One of them shouted and the two ran towards the Grossologist. Lance Boil pulled the hand out from behind his back, now armed with a goopshooter. He knew he only had time to fire once. He fired and hit the man nearest to him. "Hah! My eye!" The criminal cried out as he stumbled and fell to the floor.

The second criminal was almost upon him. He knew he had no time firing again. Instead he shifted his footing and kicked the man, first in the chin and then in the abdomen, sending him flying backwards.

At this time thou, the other man had manged to get up again, green slime still covering half his face. He pulled out an electric cattle prod from behind his back. "I'm gonna give you such a _shock_."

"Let me guess, you weren't hired for your witty remarks, were you?" Lance shrugged sarcastically.

The saboteur rushed at Lance Boil, the cattle prod thrusting towards Lance's abdomen. In the last second, Lance sidestepped, grabbed his opponent's wrist and neck and slammed him to the floor. He then twisted the man's wrist till he dropped his electric weapon and then bent the arm over the man's shoulder. "You were apparently not hired for you combat skills either."

Lance then heard rapid footsteps coming towards him. He leaped out of the way just in time to avoid the arms of the other criminal. Once the man tried to get close to him, Lance tried to punch him in the face but his opponent blocked the attack, grabbed onto his belt and kicked the Grossologist in the abdomen so hard that he flew backwards, ripping the belt off his body.

Lance Boil crouched as he clutched his hurting stomach. "Okay, so you might have some fighting skills then."

"Objective achieved. We got what we came for." The thief stated and pulled the petri dish out of the belt pocket but once he looked at it closer, he realized it was clean. "What! There's nothing in this thing!"

"Of course there isn't." Lance Boil whinged as he rose up. "There's no way I would risk letting the cure fall into the hands of Drossology-scum like you."

The thief was taken aback. "Drossology? So you know? You know who we are working for."

Lance Boil smirked. "Of course. I always do my homework."

The man turned to his partner who just got off the floor. "We're leaving!" He then turned his attention back to Lance. "At least I got this from you." He said as he took out a green device out of the belt and showed it to the Grossologist.

"My Grossometer!" Lance gasped.

The other criminal threw a smoke bomb at the floor and the room quickly filled with a thick, black mist. Lance Boil started coughing and put a small gas-mask upon his mouth, just in case the smoke was poisonous. Once it cleared, Lance looked around the room. The window was open and the two men were gone. He removed his gas filter and sighed irritated.

Lance then fished a cell phone out of his pocket and speed dialled someone. "Director, this is Lance. I managed to prevent the enemy from obtaining their target but I failed to apprehend any of them, so I had to resort to plan B." He paused for a moment. "Yes, I let them steal my Grossometer."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **So there you have it folks, how LabRat met Hermes. What did you think? Was it too mushy or not mushy enough? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about how this came out. Maybe you guys can give me some insight.**

 **Of course next chapter will be when the Grossologists gets involved in the story, and when I say Grossologists I of course mean Lance Boil and The Director. To clarify the emerald slime suit, I sort of have this head cannon that all Senior Grossologists (let's say all over 21) have the same mossy green slimesuit colour as The Director. Lance Boil seemed to be around 35 in** _ **New Recruits**_ **so he's definitely a Senior at this point. However, I do have plans for another story where we get to see him as a teenager. There he will have his own coloured slimesuit.**

 **Also, another tiny little meta thing I wanna bring up. A writer named AestheticKitten have recently started her own version of Grossology Season 3. She too include the description Grossology S3E# in her summaries. I'm only bringing this up so I can clarify to those that might be confused. Me and AestheticKitten are not collaborating and our respective series has nothing to do with each other despite the similar names & descriptions.**

 **Thank you for reading this far and as usual I'll appreciate any feedback you can give me.**

 _ **See you next time, Grossologists.**_


	5. Chapter 4

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **Chapter 4:**

BookWorm's dull, grey eyes examined the little apparatus in front of her. "I don't think I exaggerate when I say, this could either be our organisation's greatest triumph or our biggest mistake." Surrounding her were LabRat, the agents B1 and B3 and a couple of the scientists in HAZMAT suits. On the table they had gathered around was the grossometer.

"Can you explain to me what that thing is again?" Agent B3 asked.

"This is a grossometer, a device used by our enemies, the Order of Grossology for scanning and communication." BookWorm explained.

LabRat clutched his chin. "Meaning that if we rerouted the signal-

"It could lead us directly to their hideout." BookWorm finished the sentence.

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Agent B3 blurted out, "So, what are we waiting for? Let's do that technical mumbo jumbo you mentioned so we agents can go and stomp 'em out!"

"You're stupidity never ceases to surpass expectations, B3." BookWorm sighed, there was a slightly sarcastic hint to her otherwise monotone voice. "It's very probable that this device have been bugged. If we try to send out a signal with it or simple just activate it, it may send out a homing beacon, alerting the Grossologists of our location. Then it would be us that would be stomped out."

"Oh, didn't even think of that." Agent B3 stated embarrassed.

LabRat had what felt like a knot of anxiousness was straining inside him. Almost like when he was first taken to The Cluster. This was after all, the first time he got involved with the anti-terrorism part of the organisation. "So, what would you want us to do, BookWorm?"

BookWorm pressed her lips together, indicating she was thinking hard over her decision. "Gentlemen, I think its best we end this meeting for now and resume our discussion tomorrow. I'm sure I've come to decision by then that will bring the most success with the least amount of risk." Her sharp eyes then glared at her co-workers, some of her long hair obscuring part of her left eye. "But make no mistake. The tracking and elimination of our advisories takes top priority. Failure won't be tolerated."

* * *

19:00, in the control room.

LabRat and BookWorm was working as usual, examining scientific documents. "LabRat, I think we should retire for the evening. I'm getting tiered." BookWorm exclaimed as she rose out of her chair.

"Never thought I hear you say that." LabRat retorted boorishly as he kept on reading the text on screen.

BookWorm went over to the nearest bookshelf and lifted a book out of the shelf. "You've over exceeded your work hours. If you don't go soon your parents might start to wonder where you're at."

"I know but I really want to finish this thesis on Astrophysics from Ringworm's Institute of Astronomy." LabRat explained. "It's really freaking long but I'm nearly finished."

"I understand. How much time do you think you'll need to finish it?"

"Um, maybe fifteen minutes, give or take." LabRat replied.

"If you say so. I'll set the security system to lock down in thirty minutes. Make sure you've left the facility before then." BookWorm stated before leaving the room, closing the door after him.

LabRat listened vigilantly to his mentor's footsteps growing quieter. Only when he was sure BookWorm had left did he put his little plan into action. Using the big computer he was working on, he opened a window to The Cluster's security system. It took him some time until he was able to hack it but eventually it clicked for him.

A safe at the left wall of the control room beeped and then opened. Inside was the grossometer.

LabRat got off his chair and walked to the safe. For a moment he just stood there, staring at the green little device. He could hear his mentor's words echo inside his head. _'Show me some initiative, something to prove your dedication to our organisation…'_

" _This is my chance to prove my dedication. To show BookWorm how much I've progressed."_ LabRat whispered to himself before grabbing the green little device.

* * *

Later, at the Squirfenherder's residence.

LabRat's room was littered with electrical cords. After going thru dozens, Labrat finally found a cord that fit the grossometer. "Now, let's see what's in this thing." LabRat said to himself. After a few hours of searching, he found what he was looking for. "Hmm, seems like BookWorm was right after all. There was a tracking signal." A window suddenly popped up on screen. "Huh? What's this?" LabRat kept on reading. "So this device wouldn't just have sent out a signal, it also had a virus. If we would have activated it back at headquarters our entire system would have crashed." He smirked smugly. "Lucky I had the foresight to bring it here then." LabRat locked onto the virus and the tracking system and then deleted them. "There, now I can return it to BookWorm tomorrow, bug free and he'll be so impress he'll promote me." LabRat mused to himself as he headed towards the bed. He let himself fall onto the pillow, eyes facing the ceiling. "Then I can start doing my own projects and me and Hermes and can take it easy." He didn't even bother changing into his pyjamas, curled up against the pillow and fell asleep.

* * *

" _Ouch. Why does the kid have so many cables lying around?"_

LabRat woke up a few hours later after hearing something. "Huh?" He sat up and saw that the window was open, letting in a small bris. LabRat squinted and scowled. "I don't remember ever opening the window."

"Talking to yourself is often a sign of insanity, boy."

LabRat gasped at hearing the voice and turned around. There, standing next to his bed was tall man with a dark ponytail and an arrogant smirk on his lips. "What? Who the hell-

He couldn't finish the sentence before the man brought forth a spray can and sprayed a colourless liquid in the boy's face. LabRat coughed before feeling really lightheaded. His vision became blurry and before he knew it, he fell unconscious.

The ponytailed man looked down at him. "What an insidious mess you've gotten yourself into, Paul Squirfenherder."

* * *

When Paul woke up, his vision was still blurry. He moaned groggily and blinked a few times to get the blurriness out of his eyes. Once his vision cleared he realized he was in the middle of a windowless room of blue tinted plates. Looking down at himself, he saw he was strapped to a black chair by his wrists and ankles. He suddenly remembered what had happened back in his room. That man had sprayed something on him. What was that stuff and more importantly where was he now and who had that man been?

"No, no, no. This can't be happening." He lamented in a panic.

Then, a door, a door LabRat hadn't even noticed was there swooshed open and the same man he saw in his room stepped into the light. With his features fully illuminated, LabRat could discern his appearance more accurately. The man was tall but not as tall as someone like his dad. He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had a very slender yet athletic body and even the way he walked had an air of sophistication and arrogance to it. He wore a black pea coat with golden linings upon a red shirt. In addition to the short ponytail he also had a sharp goatee covering his chin. His face seem to be stuck on permanent shit-eating grin-mode. He turned his grin to LabRat and the young boy flinched. "Don't soil your pants, boy. We're only going to ask you a few questions."

At that moment, a second figure appeared by the door. Once this character stepped into the light LabRat was less intimidated and more…befuddled. This man was really short, no taller than a teenager but he was no doubt a middle-aged man, maybe in his mid-forties. His brown hair due was big and combed back and he had a disproportionately large head. He wore a grey-blue suit and a deep blue tie. His face was contorted into a stern frown. "Paul Squirfenherder." His voice was squeaky and high-pitched. "Can you tell us why we found this in your room?" He asked and held up the grossometer so the boy could see.

LabRat was baffled. "How-how did you find me?"

"My grossometer has an inbuilt tracker that activates the moment somebody hacks it." The taller man with the smirk explained.

"But I disabled that." LabRat spat.

The smirk of that man seemed to grow even further. "I expected that so I equipped it with a second tracking signal, one much harder to find. I figured that if someone were able to disable the first tracker then they would be too proud of themselves to even consider there could be a second one."

LabRat couldn't help but fume at hearing this. He was not only angry at himself for making such a mistake but at that man's arrogant attitude. "So what, I just happened to find that thing! And besides, you guys have no right to break into my house or take me against my will?" He argued, hot headed.

"Yes, well, you see um…we got a permit for it, of course" The short man stated nervously before stuffing the grossometer into his shirt pocket. He was probably lying.

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures, as they say." The tall man added. "I am top Grossologist, Lance Boil."

"And I'm The Director of the Bureau of Grossology." The short man stated, placing his hand on his chest.

"Bureau?" LabRat blinked. "Don't you mean _Order_?"

Now it was the two men that blinked. They exchanged confused glares before turning back to LabRat, however now there was a newfound sense of curiosity in their eyes. "Who exactly do you think we are?" The Director asked.

After hesitating for a moment, LabRat decided to answer. "You're the Order of Grossology. A terrorist organisation based here in Ringworm City. You steal advanced technology and sabotage the work of scientists!"

The Director's expression shifted to anger. "What! That's propo-

Lance Boil held up a hand, silencing the angry little man. "Why do you think so?"

LabRat closed his eyes and tilted up his head, looking cheeky. "My colleagues at The Cluster informed me." He then glared angrily at his captors. "And if you think you're gonna get away with this, think again. They're already wise to our location and have probably already sent out a squad to save me and wipe the floor with your little terrorist group." That was a bluff, but LabRat hoped it would intimidate the two men.

"Poppycock. I can assure you we are not an _order_ and we are most certainly not terrorists." The Director exclaimed. "We are the bureau of Grossology, a purely governmental law enforcement agency, no different than FBI or the CSIS."

"Except we specialises in a very particular form of criminality. The science oriented type, more specifically, the gross side of science which we have whimsically come to call Grossology, making us Grossologists." Lance Boil stated.

LabRat blinked with an expression of disbelief on his face. "Why should I believe you?"

"I assume simple telling him won't be enough." Lance Boil said before getting closer to The Director and whispered something into his ear.

The Director then raised an eyebrow at his taller colleague. "You sure, Boil?"

Lance Boil smiled and nodded.

The Director hesitated for a moment. He glared at LabRat, frowning like he was thinking something over. Finally, he shrugged and pulled out a remote from his suit. After aiming it at the boy, he pushed a button and the cuffs around LabRat's wrists and ankles unlocked. LabRat slipped out of the chair, rubbing his wrists and flexing his fingers to relieve their numbness.

"Come with us, Squirfenherder." The Director said and he and Lance headed out of the room. LabRat reluctantly followed, knowing he had no other choice. Leaving the interrogation room, LabRat stepped into a huge laboratory with blue walls that gave the place a brilliant shade. He couldn't help but stare at it with awe.

"Quite impressive, right?" Lance Boil exclaimed. "We call it the _Gaglab_."

LabRat didn't like the smug tone in the man's voice so he decided to huff and act disinterested. "It's pretty good but I've seen better."

The Director turned on one of the bigger computer screens and pulled out a chair. "Take a seat Paul." He said, gesturing to the chair.

Paul did as he was told and sat down. Lance Boil then stretched over the keyboard and clicked one of the buttons. A multitude of news articles showed up on screen, most of them with photos of Lance or of really disgusting disaster areas.

LabRat squinted. "What is this?"

Lance Boil blinked confused before sneering. "It's news reports of me being heroic. Seriously boy, where have you been the last 10 years? Locked up in your room?"

LabRat chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Well…"

The Director called a number on his cell phone and showed it to LabRat. "Look, I have the State Minister's phone number on speed dial."

There was a *peep* and then it went to voice mail. _"Hello, this is the State Minister talking. I can't answer you right now but if you call my secretary I'm sure we can arrange a meeting. Unless you're The Director of Grossology asking for more money again. In which case, don't."_

LabRat blinked, unimpressed. "Still don't believe you."

"Then I guess I have to show you the classified stuff." Lance Boil exclaimed. "Close your eyes, please."

LabRat reluctantly did as he was told and closed his eyes, half expecting something bad was going to happen. He was relieved to hear the familiar sound of fingers tapping the keyboard.

"Alright Paul, you can open your eyes now." Lance Boil said. When LabRat opened his eyes there was several hundreds of files listen on the screen.

"What is this now?"

"It's the classified files of all our cases. Go ahead and read as much as you want." Lance Boil replied.

LabRat opened one of the computer files and started reading. Once he was done with it, he went back, scrolled down a little and opened another one. He never wasted much time on one file, he simple skimmed thru it so he got the general gist of it before moving on to the next one.

The Director moved closer to Lance and whispered. _"Is it really okay to reveal classified information to an outsider, not to mention a minor?"_

" _We have to in order to make him trust us. This boy has the knowledge we need to finally capture them."_ Lance whispered in response.

LabRat finally felt done with reading. "Man, if this is a ruse, it sure is an elaborate on. This is," he gestured to the screen, "really impressive."

"I know." Lance Boil stated in a smug tone as he brushed his knuckles against his chest. "I myself have cleared up over eighty-five cases during my years a junior Grossologist and later as a senior Grossologist."

"A record for our numbers." The Director added with a smirk.

Lance Boil's demeanour then changed, he went from arrogant and proud to shaking his fist in shame, anger boiling underneath the surface. "However, there is still one case that remain unsolved." He reached over the keyboard, pressed a button and yet another file popped up on screen with large title letters.

 _THE SOCIETY OF DROSSOLOLOGY_

LabRat blinked confused. "The Society of Drossology?" He read before looking up at Lance.

The Grossologist looked down at him with a serious scowl. "I'm afraid your colleagues have been lying to you, Paul. The Cluster doesn't exist. The real name of your organisation is _The Society of Drossology_ and it has existed even longer than our bureau. We may not know their motives but we know they are trying to cripple society by stealing and sabotaging inventions and scientific research."

"That-that can't be true. We only review scientific papers and shutdown research that's malevolent." LabRat stated.

"Really and have _you_ ever found anything malevolent?" Lance Boil questioned.

"Well," LabRat bit his lip, "no, I haven't personally."

"And my Grossometer, did you ever learn how your people got a hold of it?"

"No, they never told me." LabRat replied.

"They stole it from me while I was busy preventing them from sabotaging a potential blight cure developed at Grey Matter University. Don't you find it odd they're keeping so many secrets from you?"

Nervous, LabRat rubbed his upper arm in a shamed manner. "I always thought it was because I was nothing more than an assistant but," he paused for a moment, "when you put it like that it does seem kind of sketchy."

The Director got closer to the boy. "So, do you believe us now? Because we could really need your help in stopping these people." Lance Boil also got closer to LabRat. While The Director looked pleadingly at LabRat, Lance glared at him with judgemental eyes.

LabRat felt rather pressured by the two men. His suspicions about The Cluster (or The Society of Drossology) had definitely awakened but he couldn't shake off a lingering sense of loyalty towards BookWorm. Finally, he shrugged. "Sorry guys, I still can't believe you."

The Director and Lance groaned in unison.

At that moment, a large screen folded down from the ceiling. When it turned on a large, gruff man appeared on screen. His air was mostly darkly brown except for his sideburns that were elderly grey. His upper lips were completely blanketed by a thick moustache and his nose seemed like it had been broken at some point. He was broad-shouldered yet somewhat slouchy. He wore a typical trench coat over what seemed like an office uniform. "Grossologists, Lance, we have a situation down town." Even his voice sounded gruff, not to mention extremely monotone.

LabRat leaned over to The Director and whispered, _"Who is that?"_

" _We call him The Detective. He's our go-between to the local police."_ The Director explained, sounding nervous for some reason.

The gruff man (apparently titled The Detective) looked down at LabRat. "Sir, who is the kid?" His voice landing somewhere between accusing and confused.

LabRat was about to answer when The Director wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "He's our new intern."

The Detective raised an eyebrow. "He is? I didn't even know you accepted interns."

"Well, as you know we are somewhat understaffed at the moment so we-

"Can we please get back to the topic that actually matters?" Lance Boil interrupted, sounding irritated. "What's the situation, Detective?"

"It's Sloppy Joe. He's causing mayhem downtown with some kind of modified bazooka. Spreading some sort of yellow goo everywhere. Don't know what it is but it's really sticky."

"Can you give us a visual?" Lance Boil asked.

The image of The Detective was replaced with a picture of a green skinned man, looking almost like a gorilla with a giant blaster in his hands, attached to a large canister on the man's back. Yellow transparent liquid was shooting out of its barrel. "Okay, who the heck is the gorilla?" LabRat asked.

"Sloppy Joe, he's one of the villains we have to deal with." The Director replied. "Sort of an idiot savant. He got the mentally capacity of a child but he's a genius when it comes to anything stinky or slimy."

"I am on my way Detective." Lance Boil proclaimed. The Detective nodded and the screen turned to black. Lance Boil then looked over his shoulder at the other two. "Make sure the boy stays here until I get back. When I do, we'll continue our discussion on the Society of Drossology." He stated before running out of the lab with a fearless scowl on his face.

* * *

A few minutes later, LabRat and The Detective saw the GRS-1 flying over the city on the computer screen. "Wow, what is that?" LabRat enthusiastically asked.

"Curious fellow, aren't you?" The Director commented. "That's a GRS-1. Our standard vehicle. Only the bureau of Grossology have access to those."

"That's awesome. Wait a sec…how are we getting this feed? Where's the camera filming this?" LabRat asked puzzled.

"Stop asking so many questions, Paul!" The Director shrieked irritated.

* * *

People was screaming in horror as they ran away from the disgusting crime scene. The tires of speeding cars got stuck in the yellow goo, stopping them in their tracks. In the middle of the street stood Sloppy Joe, laughing to his heart's content while firing his giant blaster left and right, covering streets and vehicles with a thick yellow liquid. All while singing, "Sticky, sticky goo, I love you!"

" _SLOPPY JOE, CEASE WITH WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND TURN YOURSELF IN!"_ Lance Boil's voice boomed from high above. Sloppy Joe growled angrily and looked up. He saw the GRS-1 hovering in the air.

"No way, this is way too much fun." Sloppy Joe exclaimed and fired at the flying vehicle. Luckily, Lance Boil maneuverer out of the way before the goo could hit the GRS-1.

" _OKAY JOE, YOU ASKED FOR IT."_ Lance Boil spook over the GRS-1 speakerphone. A cannon lowered down from the GRS-1's lower frame. In an instant, Sloppy Joe's face turned from happy to worry.

"Sloppy never did like the taste of his own medicine." Lance Boil commented to himself before pressing down a button atop a control stick. The cannon fired a barrage of green, slimy bullets at the criminal.

Sloppy Joe jumped out of the way of the incoming barrage and managed to take cover behind a car. This protection didn't last long thou since the GRS-1 quickly flew into position in front of him to take new aim at him.

"SERIOUSLY, JOE! ALL MY OTHER ENEMIES HAVE ALREADY RETIRED. WHY ARE YOU THE ONLY ONE IN MY ENTIRE ROUGES GALLERY THAT WON'T JUST GIVE UP?!" Lance Boil exclaimed over the speakers.

"I guess I'm just the kind of person that likes _sticking_ around." Sloppy Joe laughed at his own bad pun.

Lance grit his teeth and fired another barrage of slime from the GRS-1's canon. Sloppy Joe avoided the barrage by throwing himself at the pavement and slide on his stomach like a penguin on ice. Then, once he gotten behind the flying vehicle, he fired a long yellow stream of goo and managed to hit the target.

The GRS-1's engine gave out a few pathetic coughs before completely malfunctioning. The GRS-1 started hurling towards the ground at rapid speed. Lance Boil didn't hesitate. He opened up the cockpit lid with a simple push of a button and then brought out something from his belt. Once he squeezed it, a long whip coated with green slime extended from the handle. Lance thrusted the whip and it latched onto a nearby building. In the last second before the GRS-1 crashed against the pavement, Lance leaped out of the vehicle and swung onto the top of a truck.

Once he safely stood atop the truck, he gave the whip a good yank so it got free. He then brought out an identical handle from his belt and ejected its slimy whip before finally facing Joe, ready to fight.

* * *

"Hey, what are those things?" LabRat asked, still watching everything from the gaglab.

"Those are his _Sticky-Whips_." The Director explained. "They're not standard Grossology weaponry. Lance made them himself so they'd go hand-in-hand with his fighting style."

* * *

Lance Boil thrusted his right arm and his Sticky-Whip lassoed itself around Sloppy Joe's legs. Sloppy Joe growled, grabbed onto the slimy lasso and pulled it as hard as he could which sent Lance flying into the air.

Lance lashed out with his other whip and it latched onto a lamp post. He then let go of his first whip and swung under and above the pole until elegantly landing on top of the street lamp. _'Damn, I miscalculated. I lost one of my whips. He's fast even when carrying that blaster around.'_

Sloppy Joe took aim again and fired at the Grossologist. Lance jumped off the lamp post right before it was covered in yellow goo. He then thrusted his whip again, latching onto a nearby building and skidded onto the ground bellow. Lance scowled furiously at his enemy. Yanking the Sticky-Whip free, he lashed it at Joe and it wrapped itself around the villain's body, tying up his arms and torso.

Lance Boil smirked at his seemingly successful move but so did Sloppy Joe for some reason. While Joe's arms were tied, his hand was still clutching the blaster. He angled his weapon a few centimetres and fired. The yellow goo hit Lance Boil in the belly and pushed him against a car. The yellow goo covered the entire lower portion of his body and glued him to the ground below and vehicle behind him. Lance grit his teeth as he tried to struggle free but to no avail. The goo was just too sticky.

Sloppy Joe chuckled and flexed his biceps, tearing the Sticky-Whip off. "Oh, Lance you're such a _sap_." He laughed at his own joke. "You look like an itty bitty fly trapped in amber." Again he laughed.

Lance blinked. He stroked his finger over the slimy surface of the yellow liquid and brought it to his mouth. He recognized the taste immediately. "It's tree sap."

Sloppy Joe smirked content. "Collected it myself. Made this blaster as well. I'm calling it the _Sapzooka_."

"Why are you doing this Joe? What point is there in covering the streets with tree sap?" Lance Boil asked.

"Everyone in this city is in such a hurry all the time so I thought if I made the streets just as wonderfully sticky as the floor in my house then people would slow down and have some fun." Sloppy Joe explained smiling.

"That's just like you, Joe. You never grow up." _'That's right Sloppy, keep on talking. It gives me time to think up a strategy.'_ At that moment, Lance's eyes landed on a fire hydrant right behind Sloppy Joe. A smirk grew across his face as an idea started forming inside his head. "Hey Joe, duck."

Sloppy Joe blinked and Lance Boil thrusted his whip towards him but Sloppy Joe dodged it in the last second. "Ha! You missed." The green man mocked.

Lance Boil kept smirking. "Yeah, thanks for finally listening to me." It was at that moment that Sloppy Joe noticed that Lance Boil's Sticky-Whip had wrapped itself around the lock of the fire hydrant. Lance pulled with all his might and the fire hydrant's lock came off. A powerful stream of cold water came rushing right towards the combatants. Sloppy Joe was pushed to the ground by the cheer force of the stream. The water didn't hit Lance full on thou but rather next to his body. It splashed against the car and poured onto the sap. The water made the sap lose enough for Lance to break free. "Alright, time to finish thi-

When Lance took a step forth he felt his foot getting stuck to the concrete ground. It stuck to it for only a second but it was more than noticeable. _'No, the water wasn't enough to wash away the sap. My feet are still sticky and without my speed I got no chance against him.'_ The Grossologist despaired.

Sloppy Joe growled in anger as he rose onto his feet. "That was a cheap shot Lance. You know how much I hate clean water."

* * *

"This isn't good." The Director fearfully exclaimed back in the gaglab. "Lance has been slowed down and he only have one whip left."

LabRat was also getting worried but in that moment he got an idea. "Do we have a way to contact him?"

"Of course. He got his grossometer."

"Then patch me thru to him!" LabRat nearly shouted out of stress.

"Can't." The Director stated, shaking his head. "You're not qualified to-

"Listen to me!" LabRat interrupted, emphasising by pressing his palm against his chest. "I have a plan!"

* * *

Lance's grossometer rang. He picked it up. "Sir, this isn't the right time. I'm in a sticky situation here!"

"Lance, it's me. Lab-I mean Paul." LabRat spoke thru the little communication device.

"Squirfenherder? What are doing on our com-link?" Lance asked baffled.

"Don't think about that now. Listen I have a plan to get rid of the sap." LabRat exclaimed.

Once Lance had heard the boy's plan he sneered. "That's your plan? Where in god's name am I supposed to get-

At that moment, Lance boil noticed a sign hanging over the entrance to a cellar. _SULLIVAN'S BAR_ it read. "I'll call you later." He said before turning off the grossometer.

Sloppy Joe took new aim with his Sapzooka and prepared to fire but just as he was about to pull the trigger, Lance latched his Sticky-Whip at him again and this time it attached itself around the Sapzooka's barrel. Lance pulled downwards at the exact same moment as Sloppy Joe pulled the trigger, the aim misdirected and hit Sloppy Joe's left foot instead, pasting it with tree sap.

"What the soap!" Sloppy Joe exclaimed and started to pull his foot free from the sap.

At the same time, Lance started sauntering towards the bar. If he could have run he would but the sap underneath his feet only allowed him to drag himself forward. _'It won't take Joe long to pull himself out of the sap but that's okay. I only need to win some time.'_

As soon as he reached his destination, Lance slammed open the door. Customers and bartender alike, froze up and stared at the tiered grossologist. "Barkeep," Lance brought out his goopshooter and cocked it. "Bring me the liquor."

* * *

Meanwhile, Sloppy Joe managed to free himself from the sap by pulling his foot out of the glued up shoe. At first, Sloppy Joe looked rather disappointed at his lost shoe but then he just shrugged. "Awe well." Then he kicked off his other shoe and happily wiggled his green coloured toes. "It's fun to be barefoot when you step over something gooey and sticky, especially when it gets stuck between your toes." He laughed playfully to himself and walked towards the bar he'd seen Lance escape to.

He kicked opened the door and entered the bar. Inside, all the quests were frozen in fear, not moving a muscle, even those with their glass raised to their lips. "Hey, any of you seen any Grossologists around here?" Sloppy Joe asked, waving the Sapzooka.

The only person moving was the bartender behind the counter. As he was polishing a beer glass with a rag, large bullets of cold sweat rolled down his forehead. _"Pss, say it."_ A voice whispered to the bartender from behind the counter.

The bartender swallowed nervously. "Are you sure?"

" _Trust me, it will be fine."_ The voice whispered to him.

Slowly, nervously, the bartender faced Sloppy Joe. He tried to sound as stern as possible despite the fear. "I'm sorry, we don't serve children here."

"What did you say!?" Sloppy Joe roared in furious anger and aimed his huge blaster at the bartender. Before he had the chance to fire thou, Lance Boil jumped out from behind the counter, got in front of the bartender and fired his goopshooter however, instead of slime, he fired a stream of clear liquid that vent right into Joe's barrel. Sloppy Joe raised a confused eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Liquor, straight from the tap." The grossologist replied with a smirk.

Sloppy Joe roared again and fired his blaster but instead of a powerful stream of sap, a watery, yellowish liquid poured out thru the barrel, pooling into a pathetic puddle on the floor. "What? What happened to my sap?" Joe asked baffled.

Lance kept on smirking as he rested his cheek against his knuckles and his elbow against the counter. "Didn't you know? Alcohol dissolves tree sap. I guess that's stuff is good for you after all."

Sloppy Joe got so furious, a vain in his forehead started throbbing. He threw the Sapzooka to the floor and charged at Lance with arms spread wide. Lance quickly jumped onto the counter and spun a roundhouse kick right to the side of Sloppy Joe's head. The large man stumbled backwards, lost consciousness and fell to the floor, breaking a table to pieces in the process.

Lance Boil stood victoriously on top the counter with arms crossed over his chest. "Seems like this one have had one too many." He then looked at the bar guests. "Next round is on the bureau of Grossology, folks."

The entire bar erupted in thunderous applause.

* * *

Lance Boil entered the gaglab, the Sapzooka at hand and patches of sap still sticking to parts of his slimesuit. The Director enthusiastically went up to him while LabRat sauntered after, looking a bit more reserved. "Great job, Lance. Another case solved thanks to my number one Grossologist." The Director exclaimed, although the snarky way he said it made it sound like he was congratulating himself as well.

"It was of no difficulty, sir." Lance stated and placed the Sapzooka down on the floor. He then cast his glare over LabRat. "And you Paul," Lance sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head up a bit, "even thou I'm certain I would eventually have found a solution, your…input helped a lot. I'm grateful."

LabRat blinked. "You're welcome."

"Now, if you excuse me, I need to take a shower. One with a lot of soap." Lance grumbled as he walked away.

"Jeez, what is his problem?" LabRat huffed once Lance was out of earshot.

"He's just very proud of himself, is all." The Director replied as he tried to pick up the Sapzooka but it was almost too heavy and he nearly fell over. He yelped when he nearly slipped but managed to keep standing. "Now, let's get this thing to the Gross Vault."

LabRat raised an eyebrow. "The Gross…vault?"

* * *

The doors to the Gross Vault opened and The Director and LabRat stepped inside just as the lamps turned on to illuminate the place. LabRat was in awe at what he saw. The room was as big as the largest exhibition halls in national museums and filled with all kinds of creepy, gross yet cool stuff like giant robotic arthropods to a blimp shaped like a colossal wart. "What is this?" He asked.

"This is the Gross Vault. It's the place where we store all the weapons and equipment we've confiscated from the bad guys." The Director explained as he hung up the Sapzooka on a wall.

"Man, there's a lot of weird sci-fi weaponry in here." LabRat exclaimed.

"Yeah, can you imagine all the horrible things these things could cause if they fell into the wrong hands?"

LabRat's smile of enthusiasm turned into a frown of guilt. He thought of everything that had happened during the last couple of months and the things he'd learned only within the last hour. He could no longer deny the truth. What the Grossologists had told him was true and everything his mentor BookWorm had told him now seemed very shady in hindsight. If Lance and The Director was right about The Cluster, then how much damage had his work caused? He needed to know the truth.

"Director, sir? I've decided."

The Director turned towards him with an inquisitive expression. "On what, Paul?"

LabRat's eyes narrowed and his lips bent into a determined scowl. "I will help you bring down the Society of Drossology."

* * *

 **Author's Note**

 **Oh man, sometimes I wish Lance Boil would have stayed a Grossologist because I love writing him like this! He may be a hero but he has the same rotten personality as always. But more on that later.**

 **First of I want to apologize for taking so long with releasing this chapter. It was mostly the Sloppy Joe/Lance Boil fight that took so long, mostly because I didn't really know how to write it. I had to make bunch of research on sap, resin and syrup before proceeding and even then I didn't know what to do. I knew that the plan LabRat would come up with had to be simple enough for Lance to pull off at one go but at the same time it had to be something that Lance couldn't necessarily think up on his own. At the end think I got it together pretty well.**

 **So, I dropped quite a lot of information in this chapter. Most importantly, The Cluster doesn't exist but is in fact the criminal organisation known as The Society of Drossology. My idea for an underground organisation that secretly controls everything in this series was partly inspired by Batman's Court of Owls and the Illuminati. Plus, Society of Drossology is just the perfect name for the opposition to the Bureau of Grossology.**

 **As most writers I know nothing about hacking so I just bullshit my way thru the scene where LabRat hacked into the grossometer. Sorry.**

 **I also hoped to use this chapter to give at least a little bit of insight on The Director's and Lance Boil's relationship. While The Director outranks him, Lance just have a more dominant and charismatic personality so he tends to get away with pretty much anything. I also wanted to show Lance fighting a villain, both to convince LabRat that the bureau are the good guys as well as to show what Lance was like as a Grossologist. In the show, Lance Boil's primary weapon was the Luggi-Lasso (think that's what it was called) so I like to think he had similar weapons as a Grossologist. Plus, those Sticky-Whips makes Lance feel a little bit like Spider-Man, dosen't it?** **Sloppy Joe just felt like the perfect adversary for this fight. Ty & Abby meet most of the villains for the first time in the series but Sloppy Joe was the only one (besides Lance Boil) that they already recognised, meaning they must have met him before **_**The Perfect Stink**_ **so I'm guessing Sloppy Joe have been a villain for very long time. Also, this give Sloppy Joe even more reason to hate Lance.**

 **Thank you all for reading this far into the story. Only one chapter and the prologue left before this story is done. As usual, any input you can give me is highly appreciated.**

 _ **Until next time, Grossologists.**_


	6. Chapter 5

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **Chapter 5:**

Later that morning, LabRat met up with Agent B1 and B3 by the warehouse entrance. Some days it was only one of the two that escorted him, others it was both. "Good morning guys." LabRat greeted with a large, nervous grin on his face.

"You're late." Agent B1 stated sternly.

"Yeah, traffic was all out of whack today." LabRat replied as he nervously scratched his neck. "Heard some supervillain was covering the roads with syrup or something."

"Yeah, I heard about that." Agent B1 said. "Hey, what are you smiling about?"

"Oh nothing, just a jolly day I guess." LabRat exclaimed, still grinning that stupid grin while sweat ran down his temple.

" _Little twat probably thinking of ways to insult us."_ Agent B3 whispered to his colleague but LabRat heard him.

LabRat realized how incredible suspicious he must look. He steeled his nerves and bend down his lips. "What did you call me, B3?"

"Um, nothing, sir."

"Better not. I don't think BookWorm would want to hear his, hers or whatever's number two man was getting insulted by the help."

"You're right. I'm sorry, sir." B3 apologized and bowed.

"No, it's my fault. It was unreasonable of me to expect someone who can't even tie his shoelaces to have learned basic manners." LabRat stated in a sarcastic, smug tone as he and the two agents walked into the warehouse.

They reached the bathroom with the OUT OF ORDER sign. Agent B1 opened the door and gestured for LabRat to get in.

Suddenly, a pair of slimy, green whips lassoed around Agent B1's throat and legs and sent him flying backwards into the air, screaming in fear until his face collided sharply with Lance Boil's fist.

Agent B3 gasped when he saw the smirking Lance in his slimesuit and Agent B1 lying unconscious by the Grossologist's feet. "Damn! It's a Grossologist!" Agent B3 exclaimed and took up a defensive karate stance. LabRat genuinely wondered if B3 actually knew martial arts or if he was just failing at looking intimidating.

Lance looked at his opponent and shrugged before taking out a small metallic ball from his belt pocket, about the size of an orange. "Hey, small fry. Catch!" He called out and tossed the ball to the blonde man. Like the idiot he was, Agent B3 caught the ball with his hands and gave it a confused look. Then, the upper half of the ball unlocked and sprayed out a yellowish gas. Agent B3 coughed violently before falling unconscious to the floor.

The gas soon dispersed and Lance Boil leisurely strutted up to his defeated opponent, picking up his little mechanical gas-bomb. "You weren't japing when you told me how stupid these security agents are."

LabRat and Lance Boil stepped into the bathroom and LabRat pressed the toilet flusher. Soon enough, the room started descending down the elevator shaft. "So, the entrance to the Society of Drossology is basically a toilet? Seem kind of fitting." Lance huffed sarcastically.

"Lance, I need to ask you for a favour." LabRat exclaimed. Lance Boil looked down at the boy. His head was lowered and his fists clenched tightly. "You have two sticky-whips and two goopshooters on you, right? Then please, loan me one of your goopshooters."

Lance Boil sneered and crossed his arms. "Forget it. You're only here as my guide. I won't let you get involved in any fighting."

"Listen!" LabRat barked like a hound while not even looking at the Grossologist. "BookWorm, the person responsible for all of this, most likely hides inside a monitor room right now. He'll see you long before you get to him. I am the only person he will let close. It has to be me."

Lance was quiet for a moment as he thought it over. "Sorry to say Squirfenherder, but your cover will be blown the moment they see us together. Unless…" Lance brought out one of his goopshooters and pressed its barrel against the boy's temple. "Unless we pretend you're my hostage."

"You take a bit too much enjoyment in this." LabRat sighed. "Alright, give me the goopshooter." The Grossologist handed LabRat one of his goopshooters and the boy hide it underneath his shirt.

When they ascended into the laboratory, Lance stood behind LabRat, his hand placed on his shoulder while his goopshooter pressed against the back of the boy's head. There was at least fifteen scientists in HAZMAT suits working the laboratory but once they noticed the Grossologist and his hostage they all stopped with what they were doing to stare at them. Once the elevator landed, Lance shoved LabRat to the floor and aimed his goopshooter at the scientists.

"You are all under arrest by the bureau of Grossology under suspicion of working for the Society of Grossology! You have the right to remain silent and kiss my feet!" Lance exclaimed and the scientists started screaming in fear and ran away in a panic. Lance fired at the scientists furthest away, catching two of them in a giant lump of goo. He then threw a smoke grenade into the centre of the room, obscuring it in noxious gas, causing several of his targets to fall unconscious to the floor.

LabRat took this opportunity to scamper off the floor and run in direction of the control room. He was a bit peeved that Lance shoved him earlier but he understood. He'd done it to make it look real. As he ran thru the corridor, he couldn't help thinking on how he would confront his former mentor. Should he give her a chance to explain herself? Should he shoot first and ask questions later? A multitude of questions raced thru his head as the door to the control room came closer and closer. He reached out, grabbed onto the handle, slammed open the door and slammed it close behind him. Almost the second LabRat stepped into the room, did the intensity of the situation dissipate and was replaced by an eerie coldness, like time itself didn't exist in this room. And there BookWorm was, sitting in her chair with her legs crossed.

"BookWorm, sir. The Grossologists have infiltrated our headquarters." LabRat panted from the run.

"I know LabRat." BookWorm responded.

"He got a hold of me and forced me to lead him inside. I'm sorry." LabRat started to slowly reach for the goopshooter underneath his shirt.

"Really? You don't say." BookWorm's monotone voice was dripping of sarcasm.

"We should evacuate."

"Yes, we should." BookWorm paused for a moment. "Or rather, one of us should."

LabRat grabbed the goopshooter under his shirt and aimed it at his mentor but before he could fire, BookWorm did something unexpected. She jumped off the chair, kicked it into the air before kicking it again, sending it hurdling right at LabRat. The chair collided with his chest, pushing him against the door. BookWorm then ran at him, leaping halfway across the room and landing onto the chair with one foot planted in the seat and the other pressing against the backrest, affectively pinning LabRat against the door. BookWorm then grabbed the goopshooter and tossed it at the floor. "I never told you I was a black-belter in kickboxing, did I?" BookWorm stated and pressed a bit harder on the backrest. It both caused pain and cumbered LabRat's breathing as the poor teen gasped for air. "I know you stole the grossometer, LabRat. I figured you had jumped ship the moment I saw you with Lance. Tell me, what did you tell them and what have they told you?"

"They told me enough." LabRat replied as he struggled to breathe. "They told me you people ruin the work of scientists and engineers by stealing and sabotaging it. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, it's true." To LabRat's surprise she actually seemed genuinely remorseful. "If it's any consolation, I never planned to keep deceiving you forever. I only wanted groom you a little before telling you the truth."

"But why? What's the purpose of the Society of Drossology?" LabRat asked, struggling against the pain and lack of oxygen.

BookWorm closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they stretched as wide as eyes could. Staring into them was like looking at an inverted night sky, a black moon in the middle of a milky white pool. "Knowledge." That one word seemed to make is eyes glisten.

"Huh?"

"Yes, knowledge. The accumulation and restriction of information. Knowledge is power after all so doesn't it make sense it would be reserved for the chosen few. No matter the cost, we will get results." BookWorm explained. "Why do you think we call ourselves a _Society_? Because we stand above the rest of normal society. Sad, you could have been one of our greatest leaders but since you betrayed me you have to be eliminated."

LabRat kept gritting his teeth. "What are you talking about? Why would you think I could be one of you?"

"You're really not seeing it?" BookWorm asked and slowly cupped one of LabRat's cheeks. LabRat tensed up at the surprisingly gentle touch. "You're special, Paul. So special. Surely you must have felt it. You can't relate to people and they can't relate to you. That's because you were never one of them. You stand above them."

A stream of memories washed over LabRat's mind. He remembered staring out his window, at all the kids playing outside, wishing he could be with them. He remembered being bullied in school for his name, his phobia and everything inbetween. He remembered seeing his classmates enjoying each other's company from afar, being too scared to approach them. He remembered every single embarrassing moment he panicked outdoors.

Tears streamed down his eyes, some of it getting on BookWorm's hand. "Special? I'm not special at all." LabRat sobbed. "I can't even go outside without quivering or look at the sky without feeling overwhelmed. I can't even connect with people. I might be smarter than most but I definitely don't stand above them. That might be why _you're_ here thou."

BookWorm tilted his head slightly at the statement.

LabRat's sad frown turned into a near sinister smirk. "That's it isn't it? You're so scared of the rest of the world. That's why you cower underground and escape into your fantasy novels like a spineless maggot!"

There was flash of anger across BookWorm's otherwise emotionless face. Expectantly, she got off the chair, grabbed onto LabRat's throat and shirt and forcefully threw him across the room. His back collided with one of the computer screens and his ragged body fell onto the keyboard. His entire body felt numb. When he tried to move his arms, he could barely even feel them. He prayed that his spine wasn't broken.

BookWorm looked baffled at her hands for a moment before turning back to her typical monotone persona. "Congratulation, LabRat. You're one of the few to ever rile me up like that." She stated as she walked up to the round little carpet at the middle of the room. "I've wasted my time with you, it was careless of me but now it's time for me to leave you to your demise." She tilted hear head up and with a lauder, sterner voice said, "Computer, activate security measure Omega and erase all files on record."

LabRat heard the sound of engines and slowly turned his neck to see his mentor. Then, the carpet BookWorm was standing on started sinking. As it turned out, the carpet laid upon an elevator, a secret escape route. LabRat gasped in surprise, rolled over and leaped at BookWorm but it was too late. His old mentor disappeared underground, her eyes looking back at him with disappointment right before a metal door closed sealed them off.

Anger contorted LabRat's face into a furious scowl. "No!" He shouted and started punching the floor. "BookWorm, come back! Come back!"

Suddenly, one of the bookshelves exploded in a ball of fire. LabRat gasped as he stumbled away from it. Then another bookshelf exploded and caught fire. Then another, then another. As the fire spread on either side of him, LabRat realized two things. First, security measure Omega a self-destruct sequence, design to burn down the entire base to make sure no data fell into enemy hands. The second thing was…

"Hermes!" He shouted and ran out of the room as fast as he could, not thinking about anything other than his furry friend.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the main hall.

Lance Boil's job was done. All the seventeen HAZMAT scientists either lied unconscious on the floor or had been immobilized by the goopshooter. "Where none of you prepared for this or am I just this good." Lance chuckled self-satisfied as he placed his Sticky-Whips back inside his belt.

Suddenly, an explosion went off in the middle of the room, setting the place ablaze. Terrified, Lance Boil stepped away from it. Then even more, smaller explosions went off along the walls of the laboratory. "What in Henrietta Lacks's immortal cells are going on?" Lance Boil hollered, overwhelmed by the situation he was facing.

"Security measure Omega." A HAZMAT scientists, pasted to a table by the goo hissed thru his helmet. "A security measure our boss set up. It will incinerate this entire complex. Leaving nothing for you to examine."

Lance blinked. He then looked at the bathroom-looking elevator. "Is there any other way out of here?"

The same HAZMAT scientist answered him. "Several but they're far away. There's no way you can get there in time. You'll burn to death like the rest of us, Grossologist scum." Lance Boil sighed before walking over to the HAZMAT he's just talked with. He yanked him free and hosted him upon his shoulder. "Hey, what are you doing?" The Drossology scientist whined.

Lance then picked an unconscious scientist off the ground and hosted him on his other shoulder. He then rushed to the elevator and placed them down. "Don't get me wrong." Lance said. "It's not like I actually care about you scumbags but I'm sure I can squeeze at least some information out of one or two of you." He analysed the bathroom/elevator. He figured it had room for at least eight people if he stacked them a top one another. _'I have to take two rounds.'_ He then smiled a bit. "Besides, leaving people to die isn't the bureau's M.O."

* * *

LabRat reached the room where Hermes usually were being kept. The moment he opened the door he was blinded by a tidal wave of searing hot smoke. Once vision returned to him, he realized this room was also burning. Vicious flames burning at all walls. In the middle of inferno, LabRat saw his best friend running in panicked circles in his cage. When Hermes saw his friend he stopped to stare at him, his crimson eyes begging to be saved.

LabRat's eyes widen. A part of him realized how irrational it was to risk his life to save a rat but witnessing his best friend in mortal peril and feeling his body shacking with fear, there was something else in him that told him, he had to do it, he had to conquer his fear.

He pulled his shirt collar over his face to cover his nose and mouth and then started running as fast as he could towards the cage. Even thou there was only a few meters between them, LabRat felt like he was running a hundred meter dash to get to him, flames dazzling by his rushing legs. As soon as he reached the cage, he forced open its door. Hermes didn't hesitate but quickly ran out of the cage and onto the boy's arm. LabRat smiled and nuzzled the white rodent. "I'm glad you're okay too buddy."

That was when he heard a strange sound. Something like a whistle. Turning to the direction of the sound, he saw two big gas containers at the other end of the room and both were leaking.

"Oh no…"

* * *

Lance Boil had just loaded the last of the HAZMAT scientists onto the elevator. He had put on a gas-mask due to the thickening smoke from the fires.

Suddenly, LabRat ran into the laboratory with Hermes sitting in his hoodie, screaming, "Gas! Gas!"

Lance Boil blinked. That was when everyone heard a loud boom, followed by a huge fiery explosion expanding behind LabRat. Immediately, Lance pressed the flusher on the fake toilet and the elevator started rising off the floor, rather quickly at that. For a second, LabRat dreaded that the Grossologist would leave them to die in the inferno (he didn't quiet seem like the heroic type) but he was quickly proven wrong. Lance thrusted one of his sticky-whips and it lassoed itself around LabRat's body and quickly pulled him onto the elevator, just as the platform left the room and the fire swallowed The Cluster.

* * *

The fire trucks and police cars came twenty minutes later. As the firemen put out the fire (which at this point had spread to the warehouse above), the cops were leading the HAZMAT scientists along with Agent B1 and B3 in handcuffs.

LabRat sat on the sidewalk with a cup of warm cocoa in his hands and a blanket over his shoulder, courtesy of the fire department. Hermes meanwhile sat on his shoulder, occasionally lapping a few sips of the cocoa. LabRat was still shocked from the experience. He didn't know what scared him more. BookWorm's words, the explosion or the fact he was now sitting outdoors on the filthy pavement.

Lance Boil strolled up to him. He glared down at the boy like a disapproving teacher would at a failed student. "So, what happened to BookWorm?"

LabRat turned his gaze to the ground. "He got away."

"Great." Lance sighed sarcastically. "We managed to completely bring down the Society of Drossology and yet the biggest, drossiest one of them all managed to escape. Good job, Squirfenherder." He huffed and marched off.

"Thanks for saving me!" LabRat called out to the Grossologist as he stormed off before muttering _"Jerk."_ to himself and took another sip of his cocoa.

Almost as soon as Lance left, The Director approached him. "Paul, are you okay?"

"A bit shaken but otherwise fine." LabRat replied, not really looking at the middle aged man.

"And…the hairy thing on your shoulder?" The Director nervously pointed at the white rat, evidently freaked out by the critter.

LabRat looked at Hermes, smiling gently. "This is my friend, Hermes."

Hermes wiggled his nose a little.

"Very well." The Director cleared his throat before cupping his hands behind his back to look serious. "Paul, thanks to my impeccable judgement of your character, you helped us take down an enemy we've been trying to quell for generations. Furthermore, we at the bureau are impressed with your scientific and technological expertise."

LabRat censed were this was going but could barely believe it. "What are you saying?" He blinked.

The Director smiled at him, a mixture of warmth and satisfaction. "I'm offering you a position as Junior Grossologist, Mr. Squirfenherder."

Like a sun igniting within his chest, LabRat's lips formed a smile that never seemed to stop growing until it did. "But…I used to work for the Drossologists. Doesn't that make me a criminal?"

"Oh that." The Director waved a dismissing hand at his question. "I'll talk it over with The Detective. Since you're a minor and was duped into believing they were the good guys I think you get off with a warning."

LabRat was relieved over hearing that but there were still something bothering him which made him hung his head. "I still couldn't be a Grossologist. I got Agoraphobia."

"Ago-what?" The Director asked, puzzled.

"Fear of the outdoors." LabRat muttered in response.

"Oh, well then you may not be able to be a field agent but we could really need someone to help out from behind the scenes. Someone to handle communication, design functioning gadgets and analysing evidence." The Director said. "As an added bonus I can give you free access to the gaglab twenty-four hours per day. What do you say?"

LabRat's smile returned to him. "What about him?" He asked, pointing to Hermes.

"As long as you make sure he never touches me, I'll allow him in the bureau." The Director replied. He then extended a hand to the boy. "So, what do you say?"

As LabRat stared at the hand in front of him, he remembered something his brother once told him.

" _Just hang in there bro. One day, I know you find a place where you belong."_

He smiled and sternly took The Director's hand. "I'm in sir. I promise, you won't regret it."

The Director grinned. "Excellent. Welcome to the bureau of Grossology, Paul Squirfenherder."

"Actually sir, I would prefer it if you called me _LabRat_ from now on."

* * *

1 year later.

It's been a little over a year since the Society of Drossology was taken down and LabRat and Hermes had now become established members of the bureau of Grossology. They'd also become somewhat permanent residents of the place. LabRat had his own little bed room to sleep in whenever he wanted which was most of the time. His family (especially his mother) wished he would be home more often but overall they were pleased he'd finally found a place where he was happy and LabRat was indeed happy, coming up with inventions and analysing data so the Grossologists could protect the city.

Right now, LabRat was chilling in his comfy office chair while eating some cheese snacks, on occasion giving Hermes one.

Their snacking was interrupted when Lance Boil stepped into the room. His slimesuit was dusty and he had an orange jetpack strapped to his body.

LabRat smirked, placed away the plastic bag of cheese snacks before curiously asking, "So…how did my jetpack work, Boil?"

Lance sighed. "It worked fine, LabRat. Until it didn't." He shoved the jetpack into the teenager's arms.

"What's your problem? I mean today, don't give me the full list." LabRat huffed.

"You know, before you joined us, I built my own gizmos because I knew I would need them and I can honestly not find a reason as to why I would ever need a jetpack. We do have the GRS-1 after all." Lance Boil spat.

LabRat placed the jetpack on the desk in front of him. He was mildly annoyed by Lance Boil's attitude but he was used to it so he just kept smiling at how well his jetpack had turned out. Not only functioning but easy to disguise as a normal backpack. "I can agree that the GRS-1 flies both faster over much greater distances. The jetpack however gives the user easy to access speed and flight capability whenever needed. Besides, while you may never need this, you might not be our only field agent for very long."

Lance Boil growled at that statement.

The Director came strolling into the gagalab, looking astonishingly pleased with himself with his hands cupped behind his back, an ear to ear smile and eyes closed. "Gentlemen, I think I've finally found two potential recruits for our Junior Grossologist program." He fished a remote out of his pocket and used it to turn on a screen. The screen showed a still frame from yesterday's news. Two teenagers after they saved an entourage of tourists trapped in a cave. One was a boy with black, spikey hair and the other one was a girl with an extraordinary long, rusty red ponytail.

While Lance looked at them with a hateful sneer, LabRat looked at them with a hopeful smile. He'd found where he belonged. Now he wanted to meet the people he belonged with.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Again, I love writing Lance Boil like this. So narcissistic and smug but also really talented. Of course it all changes when he gets mutated and he no longer can back up all that arrogance.**

 **Important info, I've just done a little bit of retconning in this story. I usually never go back and try to rewrite small parts of my stories since I kind of feel that's like cheating but this time I had to in order for the story to fit the continuity better. The rewriting is in Chapter 1. I changed LabRat's age from 15 to 14 and instead of jumping out of school after tenth grade he did it after eighth grade. Reason being, I didn't take LabRat's age in the original show into account.**

 **You see, I found it difficult to determine the age of the characters in the show since it was never mentioned, the age of animated characters are hard to tell anyway and Canada & UA have completely different grade systems than we got in my country. So I've come up with a headcanon as to how old the characters were in the show and how old they are in my Season 3. Ty Archer (as well as his classmates Naomi, Andy & Roger) were 14 in the show and are now 16 in Season 3. LabRat & Abby Archer (as well as her classmates Paige & Chester) were 15 in the show and are now 17 in Season 3. As you can tell there's a two year gap between the events in the original series and the stories of this fanfiction series.**

 **This story is pretty much over now. All that remains is the epilogue. Thanks everyone that's been reading and supporting me this far.**

 _ **Till next time, Grossologists!**_


	7. Epilogue

**The True Indoors**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Present day.

"…and that is the story of how I became the cool, savvy and handsome grime fighter you all know today." LabRat finished his story with a satisfied smile. His teammates were positioned around him. Ty leaned against a table while Chester and Abby sat in chairs next to each other, Naomi was cradling Hermes and Andy sat on a pillow on the floor, snacking potato chips out of a bag he got out of nowhere.

"Man, what an amazing story." Andy exclaimed before stuffing his face with more chips.

"I know. Who could have thought LabRat used to be a villain with a difficult childhood?" Chester exclaimed. "Just like me."

"I wasn't a villain you egocentric. I was tricked." LabRat snapped.

"Sorry, I'll be quiet now." The blonde boy quickly apologized and lowered his head, looking bashful.

"To think Hermes had gone thru something so horrible." Naomi said concerned and petted the white little rodent. She then nudged the top of his head with her index finger and found a tiny scar, imbedded underneath all the white hair. Hermes then jumped out of her arms and scurried over to LabRat, positioning himself on his usual resting place atop the boy's shoulder. LabRat smiled warmly at long time rodent friend.

"Question." Andy exclaimed and raised his arm. "If this story was all from your perspective then how did you know the stuff you weren't there for?"

"I just assumed that was how it happened?" LabRat sighed.

"What about that LabMan blog you were working on?" Abby asked.

"I took it down." LabRat replied, getting a tad peeved.

Ty crossed his arms over his chest. "And how come you've never mentioned having a brother before?"

"I know, right? He sounds dreamy." Abby exclaimed with a giddy grin.

"Enough questions." LabRat ordered, quieting everybody.

Very slowly and very carefully, Naomi raised her hand.

LabRat sighed. "Yes, Naomi?"

"What happened to BookWorm?" The girl with glasses asked.

"Good question." LabRat sighed begrudgingly as he leaned back in his chair. "After he escaped the hideout no one has seen a trace of him. In truth, during the three years I've been at the bureau I always hoped he would resurface if only so we could get a second chance at capturing him but after this long I have to conclude he's gone."

Hermes jumped off the boy's shoulder, onto the nearest table and stared at his human companions.

* * *

" _Well, I for one is happy we won't ever have to deal with the Society of Drossology."_

Unbeknownst to the Grossologists, inside a dark, underground chamber, BookWorm was listening in on their conversation with the use of a strange looking helmet.

" _You can say that again, Ty."_ He heard LabRat say.

BookWorm carefully took off the electronic helmet and placed it in his lap. "What an interesting non-sequitur."

At that moment, another figure stepped out of the shadows. Draped in a dark cloak that masked everything except the contours of his jaw. He towered over BookWorm. Even when doing nothing but taking a few harmless step forth, his aura exuded absolute evil.

BookWorm turned his head to look up at the tall, cloaked man. "Master." He greeted.

"BookWorm, do you have anything to report on the Bureau of Grossology?" The cloaked figure asked with a raspy, dark voice, sounding like a man on the verge of death.

"Nothing of importance, sir. Although it might interest you to hear that LabRat and his comrades still believes us to be obsolete." BookWorm replied.

Even thou it was barely visible in the darkness of his hood, the sinister man's lips curved into a malevolent smirk. "Naïve fools. They still don't suspect that the Society of Drossology persists."

* * *

 _ENDING SONG: NEW DIVIDE – LINKIN PARK._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **And there we have it. Episode 4, Season 3 is done and I'm kind of glad. Don't get me wrong, it was fun writing a story focusing only on my boi LabRat but I'm happy to get back to writing stories involving the entire gang.**

 **So as you can tell from the epilogue, the Society of Drossology are still active and they will be the primary antagonists of season 3 moving forward. The villains from the original show like Lance Boil and Insectiva will of course have their own moments to shine but with the Society of Drossology our protagonists will have to deal with not only individual opponents but an entire organization of baddies (fitting now when the heroes' numbers are growing). I'm rather iffy when it comes to villain team-ups. Sure, they can be fun but if the villains doesn't share a goal then it feels a bit too gimmicky for me but when you have a faction of characters working towards a common goal (may be it for different motives) that just happens to be villains it feels less like a gimmick and more of a dynamic part of this universe.**

 **So tell me, what did you think of this story? Did you like the origin story I came up with for LabRat? Does it help you appreciate his character more? Does it somehow lesser his character? As always, I appreciate any feedback you guys can give me.**

 _ **Until we meet again, Grossologists.**_


End file.
